


Winds of Change

by Writingwife83



Series: Winds of Change [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 63,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after season 3... Molly is very hurt by the fact that Sherlock didn't bother to say goodbye properly to her before he was to be leaving, assuming he'd never see them again. She's ready to change their dynamic and make sure he can't mistreat her anymore. But Sherlock ends up feeling guilty, and offers to do something unusual to make up for the hurt he caused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this was completed months ago on another fan fiction site. It ended up becoming my most followed story. It's also my longest one I've written so far. I'm planning on uploading a couple chapters a day on here. I will be unavailable from Friday till next Monday, so because of that I'll upload more chapters today and tomorrow. Hope you guys like this one! ;)

It had been a couple weeks since Sherlock's five minute exile and subsequent return to England. And since the nationwide message seemingly from Moriarty, there had been very little activity or evidence to suggest he was alive or even that anyone else had taken his place. Sherlock had of course been looking out for any signs that things were not as they seemed. And he'd begun cataloging carefully in his mind all the possible explanations for this message heard round the country. The possibility that Moriarty was in fact alive, that he had planned ahead for this in the case of his death, that another criminal was using him as a disguise of identity. And about ten other less likely options as well.

So Sherlock was busy. He was once again a precious commodity in the eyes of England. They couldn't do without him, even for five minutes. And even though there wasn't an active case involving "Moriarty" at the moment, the whole country was biting their nails in nervous anticipation of the what-ifs. That meant that he was also back in the good graces of the police force. Lestrade was more than happy to begin including him on cases again almost immediately. Greg Lestrade had been horribly disappointed when he'd learned of Sherlock being sent away forever. He not only considered Sherlock a friend by now, but also was well aware that they couldn't function properly without him anymore. He wasn't even ashamed to admit it. So when he heard Sherlock was back in commission, he didn't miss a beat. He was keeping Sherlock busy with standard cases as well as the ongoing investigation involving the appearance of Moriarty's message. Sherlock was not at all bored.

Molly Hooper, on the other hand, was not so busy. Her life had slowed remarkably. She had now been the victim of a broken engagement for a couple months. This of course had freed her of lots of social activity and time sent with other people. Not just Tom, but also his friends. Some of which she had become close to during their relationship. There were a few other couples they saw regularly and Molly had enjoyed the company of the wives/girlfriends. They got along and she felt they would continue to be friends no matter what happened with her and Tom.

She had been wrong though. The couples they were friendly with had known Tom first, and so felt some sort of loyalty to him. So when they learned that Molly had broken the engagement, they one by one had informed her that they were so very sorry, but it wouldn't be appropriate to continue any association. She had lost friends as well as her fiancé. She had her job of course, and that kept her occupied forty hours a week, but other than that she had been terribly lonely.

On top of that, Molly was now mad. She was really mad. The day that Sherlock was to be sent away forever, she had come home to her apartment and found a small scrap of paper that had been pushed under the door. It simply said,

GOODBYE MOLLY. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING.

~SHERLOCK

Upon seeing this she had panicked. This was a man who had not so long ago faked his own death by jumping from a hospital roof top. And then most recently had shot a man point blank. These facts didn't instill confidence in Molly that he wouldn't do something truly crazy. He already bordered on crazy as it was. She had also just witnessed the message apparently from Moriarty. All these things combined, she was pretty afraid that something had happened or was going to happen to Sherlock.

She had tried with no success to get ahold of someone who could tell her something helpful. She called Lestrade, John, Mrs. Hudson, and even Mycroft. None of them answered. And of course she tried to call Sherlock. He didn't answer. She sent texts which he didn't reply to. She had finally given up and figured there was nothing more she could do and she'd just have to wait and see what came of this.

The next day she had indeed gotten a couple calls back from those she had left messages for. John and Lestrade had both called and told her the same thing. Sherlock wasn't gone. He had been going away, but was back now. This still didn't give her a whole lot to go on. She had also gotten a text from the detective himself. And it said,

I AM FINE. YOU MAY DISREGARD MY NOTE. -SH

This had confused her as well. Why had he left the note in the first place? And suddenly she was to disregard it? She could see that things were apparently back to normal, whatever they had been before. She just wished she wasn't so very much in the dark. A few days later Sherlock had waltzed into the morgue again as if nothing out of the ordinary had every happened. He needed a couple experiments done. He acted as he always acts and spoke as he always spoke. Things were... normal. She could only conclude that she had somehow blown things up in her Molly mind and was making something out of nothing.

She didn't feel that way anymore about a week after though. John came in to analyze some samples and he was kind and politely chatty as usual. What he said absolutely horrified her.

"Nice to have Sherlock back eh?" he asked casually.

"Um, sure. Yeah...he wasn't gone for long though was he?"

"Well no. Matter of minutes really. Good thing for Moriarty, though I never thought I'd say that!"

"Oh, so he didn't go away because of the Moriarty thing?"

"Well yeah, he was allowed to come back because of it."

Molly began to feel there were a few things she didn't understand. And she had a feeling they weren't good. But there was no way she was going to miss this opportunity to get some real answers.

"So, I'm sorry, John, but what do you mean when you say...he was allowed to come back?"

John looked up from the microscope at Molly and recognized the look of confusion on her features. He started to look a bit uncomfortable as he realized what it was she didn't know.

"Well, I thought you would be aware Sherlock wasn't just going away. He was being sent away. Exiled really. Because of killing Magnison. He was put on assignment in Eastern Europe. It was undercover. He told me that it was for six months."

"Oh. So six months of exile. Well I guess that would explain the note..."

"Well actually," John continued. "It was just the job itself that was six months. But...Sherlock wasn't coming back. Not ever. "

Molly froze a little and then opened her mouth a couple times to try to respond. But she couldn't really. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. She stood there frowning a bit and processing this information. And all she could see in her mind's eye was the little scrap of paper with a scribble of Sherlock's writing on it. A tiny little scrap. That was it.

"Molly?" John said cautiously. "Did you know any of this?"

Molly tried to put on a casual expression and answer evenly. "Well, they weren't really covering his trial on the telly. So I'm sure most people didn't know he was being exiled." She felt her cheeks start to redden and tried to start cleaning up on the lab table.

John, being the kind and normal and un-Sherlock man that he was, stopped what he was doing and came over closer to Molly.

"But you're not most people, Molly," he said gently. "And I thought Sherlock would have told you. I mean, my God, there were times you knew things that I didn't! Big things! So, I only assumed he would have said goodbye." John place a hand on Molly's arm briefly.

"Well, he sort of did." She wondered why she would be defending him right then as she continued. "He did leave a little note under the door of my flat...it said goodbye. And thank you for everything."

John hung his head a little. He said nothing. And Molly knew full well that John was disappointed in his friend. Because when she uttered the words of the note aloud, it did sound just awful.

"Ah, Molly..." John began, but the words didn't form into a sentence.

"It's Sherlock. What can I expect, you know?" she said, trying to brush it off.

But the truth was, she was really upset by this. She knew full well that Sherlock had never had any romantic feelings for her. She had come to terms with that. It was alright. But the reason it was alright was because she had felt that he at least trusted, and respected her. And she was his friend. They were friends if nothing else. John was right. There had been things at times that he shared with nobody but her. Things involving life and death. She had thought that meant she mattered. He had TOLD her it meant she mattered.

John had clearly felt embarrassed about what he had disclosed and the fact that it was all new to Molly. He said he was sorry before leaving that day. Molly wasn't mad at him of course. It wasn't John's fault that his best friend was a miserable excuse for a friend and a man. This was about the description Molly was using for Sherlock in her head by the end of her shift that day. Along with some additional choice words. She had really reached her threshold of tolerance for Sherlock's disregard. It was putting her in a terribly bad mood.

And she wished that this hadn't happened only days before her mother and sister were expected for a two week visit.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly was less than thrilled the next day when she saw the familiar detective stroll into the lab as if the world around him kept right on going the same as always. He looked pleased, and she was sure it was because he had his life back to normal when he had been very close to losing it completely. And she realized that there was a little bitterness mixed into her anger at Sherlock. At the same time as he had regained all he'd lost, she had lost most of what she had. But she certainly still felt justified in the way she was feeling.

"Morning, Molly," he said happily as he came over to where she stood.

"Sherlock," she responded quietly without looking up.

"So, I'll be requiring two ears this morning. They don't have to match, but they certainly can if that makes it any easier. If you don't have any on hand immediately I could perhaps wait until..." He glanced at his watch. "At latest two pm. You can text me when they are ready for pick up...unless of course you could give them to me now."

Molly said nothing.

Sherlock sighed loudly and spoke again. "Molly, have you heard a word I've said?"

"I have."

"Aaand?" he said in an impatient voice.

Molly now looked up from her work and reached into her lab coat pocket while responding. "I'm actually glad you came in today, Sherlock. I've got something to give back to you." She took out his tiny goodbye note and slapped it down onto the lab table in front of him.

He looked down at the paper, and then back at her, then repeated this again before responding. "Why are you giving this to me? I don't need that. In fact you don't either. I told you it could be disregarded," he said somewhat haughtily.

"You're right. I don't need it. In fact if that's the only goodbye that I was going to get you never should have bothered."

By now Sherlock could see that there was some fire in her brown eyes as she spoke.

"What are you so upset about? There is no goodbye. I'm standing right here in the lab. With you. The note and my departure are null and void! I am back and I am staying. So why exactly are we discussing this pointless topic? Let's move on!" he said and then crumpled the note and threw it in the bin next to the lab table.

"I see. So you think this merits no discussion at all? You were leaving. You were leaving forever. I know that now, though I didn't understand it at the time. And  _that_ ," she said pointing to the trash bin. "was all I deserved?"

He stared back at her, not seeming to have any response this time. So she went on.

"Sherlock, you didn't think we'd ever see each other again...can I ask you something? Who else did you scribble a little note for? Hmm? Did you leave one for John and Mary, or Greg, or Lestrade?"

He made no reply again.

"I think I know the answer to that question. None of them I suppose. I'm sure not since you surely saw them face to face before you were going to leave. I'm right aren't I?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and began slowly. "Perhaps I should complement you on your skills of deduction?"

Molly exhaled in a huff and turned to walk away. Then she turned again, frustrated that she didn't actually have anywhere else to retreat to, and came back to where she stood before.

"Sherlock! Am I your friend?" she questioned, exasperated.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Has there ever been an instance, big or little, in the years that you've known me that I haven't been there for you?"

"No."

"Then why didn't I deserve a proper goodbye? Where do I fall short where your other short list of friends do not? What was it? Were you afraid I'd cry, or hug you, or kiss you, or tell you that I loved you?! That's right. I said it. Are my feelings so horrifying to you that you couldn't bring yourself to face them one last time for the rest of your life? I know you don't love me and never have, but can't you have the smallest concern for my feelings? My feelings as your friend, if nothing else! God, now I know how John felt when you came back."

Molly leaned her hands on the table and stared at nothing in particular, trying to take some breaths to slow her heart rate. She hadn't been this angry at Sherlock since she'd slapped him in this very room upon learning how high he was.

Strangely enough, Sherlock then said, "I think it would have been easier if you'd just slap me again."

She glared at him. "I'm sure it can be arranged if you keep talking, Sherlock."

She took another breath and then looked at him again. "Look, I'm not exactly at an easy moment in my life right now, Sherlock. And what I need is friends. Actual friends. Meaning people who care about me. Not people who love to visit me so they can ask me for things whenever they want. So I'll have to be taking a little break from working with you."

The bridge of his nose wrinkled in confusion. "But I have to work with you, Molly. Who else would I work with?"

"Oh I'll do what's needed for you, Sherlock, I will. If there's a  _case_. And if it's something that's being headed by the police, I will help you. But I'll not be providing you with any items or parts for the sole purpose of your experimenting. And you'll do nothing to bodies here at the morgue either. Unless you are simply examining them in connection with a case. And if you want to analyze anything that's not case related, you can use your own kitchen table facilities at you own flat. You won't be using this lab...does that seem clear?"

Sherlock clenched his jaw as he stared back at her. "You cannot be serious. All because I didn't say goodbye to you in person?! You should probably be thanking me! You wouldn't have wanted some silly sentimental goodbye hanging in the air forever, Molly! I was guaranteed to be dead in a matter of-" but he stopped himself mid-sentence when he saw the look on her face. Even Sherlock realized this had not actually been a valid argument to use.

"Oh my God..." she breathed while shaking her head and looking at him in horror. "And you knew this? Of course you did...well, that's especially awful then, Sherlock. So yes, I stand by my new set of rules  _all_  because you didn't say goodbye to me in person before you were to  _die_." She gave him a hard stare, now with tears forming in her eyes.

"So the ears then..." he said quietly.

"If you still insist on asking me for ears Sherlock, remember that Lestrade, as my friend, will be very happy to inform me about whether they are necessary for a police investigation or not!" She took out her mobile, seeming ready to make the call.

Sherlock swallowed any further words and turned slowly. He started to turn back again, but seemed to think better of it as she saw him press his lips together and continue to walk away. She watched him walk out of the lab and away down the hall. She wondered if this was finally the end of a very long chapter in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stormed into his flat and Mrs Hudson happened to be coming out her door as he began to ascend the stairs.

"Oh, Sherlock dear, John's upstairs! He said he had some results to bring you...is everything alright?" she asked, noticing his icy expression.

"Fine, Mrs Hudson, thank you," he bit back in an irritated tone as he continued up the stairs.

He entered the flat and John got up from his seat. "Oh hello. I was getting ready to leave this for you. Figured you were off at Bart's for the whole morning."

"Oh no, John, I won't be spending much time there, I can assure you!" He threw off his coat before continuing to stalk around the flat in a huff.

John observed him for a moment and then realized exactly what was going on. "Molly told you off didn't she?"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and eyed John suspiciously. "How would you know that? You did know that! Did you speak to her yesterday in the lab?"

John put his hands up defensively. "Ok, yes I spoke to her. And yes, I knew she was upset already. I'm sorry, I haven't had a chance to talk to you at all. Mary had another sonogram yesterday and then we had dinner with some friends in the evening. I meant to tell you today, really."

Sherlock began to rant about the ridiculous set of rules that Molly had put into place and how incredibly detrimental it would prove to be in his work. He went on and on about all the many inconveniences it would cause him on a daily basis. And how it was completely out of line and unreasonable given the "minimal" offense he had committed.

John stood silently listening with arms crossed. Sherlock finally stopped his rant and looked at him expectantly, hoping for some response and agreement.

"Sherlock, you know you're the one in the wrong don't you?" he asked with a straight face.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh right! Of course I can't complain to you about all this seeing as you're probably still harboring your own grudge against me for deceiving you about my suicide! I'm sure you're thinking, 'Oh poor Molly! How could Sherlock hurt her like this?!'" He did his best to imitate John's voice.

"Sherlock! You did hurt her! Would it have killed you to say goodbye to the woman?"

"I didn't think it was necessary!"

"Oh come on, Sherlock! Even you shouldn't be that clueless!" John threw back, getting a bit irritated.

"John, tell me you did not just use the word clueless to describe me," he said in disgust.

"I certainly did. Because that's exactly what you are when it comes to people, Sherlock! I'm sure that if Molly was a corpse lying in a pool of her own blood on the floor of her kitchen you would have infinite wisdom about her, her life, her family and friends, and any possible scenarios as to who or what killed her. But when she's alive and standing in front of you, you are useless! And yet you still expect her to cater to your every whim at the snap of your fingers!"

Sherlock was a little dumb founded for a moment. He turned to face the window and stuck his hands in his pockets before responding.

"I care...I've been much kinder to her in the recent past." He still sounded defensive, but his voice had quieted.

"But, Sherlock, you can't sneak off forever from the people who love you and say nothing. Yes I know you left her a note, but that's not the same thing. Not when you believed she'd never see you again. I mean, would you have left me a little note?"

Sherlock glanced at his friend and then back to the streets below his window. "No, John. I would not have."

"Exactly. I know I'm your best friend, but believe me, she cares just as much about you as I do...just look how hard she slapped you!" John started to laugh. "That was love! The love in that slap echoed for miles!"

Sherlock tried not to smile, but his friend in hysterics made it hard. "Very funny, John...alright fine. I understand why she's mad. But I still feel that she's taking things to an unreasonable degree trying to cut me off from everything not related to police business. What's that going to do except make things difficult?!"

John had recovered from laughing and took a cleansing breath. "Well, Sherlock, have you ever considered that she's trying to get over you? Maybe she needs some distance in order to do that. She doesn't usually get much distance. You're usually in there at least once or twice a week...and then there's just the explanation of it being a good old fashioned time out!" His laughter started up again.

"But how do I fix it?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, there will have to be repeated apologies. You know I needed a few dozen to consider speaking to you again. So that's a definite. And then you're going to have to come up with something to make it up to her."

"Ugh! Like what?! I don't  _do_  things like that!" he growled and then collapsed into his chair by the fire.

"Honestly, Sherlock, I don't know. If this was a normal situation I'd say flowers or something like that. But being that it's  _you_  and  _her_  the situation is strange and doesn't fit into any norms. So I hate to tell you, but you'll have to figure this one out on your own. Just feel the situation out. Though, you'll have to hope you get sent to Bart's by Lestrade soon. Because you can't make up your own reasons for going. Might make her more upset."

Sherlock looked contemplative. "Yes...that's true. First order of business then is to get Lestrade to send me to Bart's. I can do that rather easily. He's thrilled I'm still in London, he'll do whatever I ask." He whipped out his phone.

"Or...you could just wait for him to send you to Bart's. Don't try to manipulate too much, Sherlock. You'll get yourself in more trouble. I'm sure you won't have to wait long anyway. There's active cases right now aren't there?"

"I suppose...oh fine! I'll give it two days and then I'm calling Lestrade and bribing him into sending me to Bart's!"

"You're showing excellent restraint, Sherlock. Maybe we should all punish you more often!" He received a glare from the detectives piercing eyes. "Got to go. I left the findings on the table. Call me if you need anything!"

"Mmm..." Sherlock barely moved as John left the flat.

He sighed loudly. It was going to be a very boring two days.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock was pleased that it only took a day and a half for Lestrade to call him up and request his presence at Bart's. But then he was disappointed to learn that the purpose of his visit was to visit a suspect involved in some gang violence. He was pretty beat up but could talk. Sherlock was supposed to glean whatever he could from the man so they could track down other suspects.

"Let's make this quick," Sherlock announced as he dragged the curtain back from where the man lay in his hospital bed.

"I'm not telling you anything!" the man mumbled with gauze in his mouth.

"Oh excellent! I like it so much better when they don't speak to me!" he hissed and began walking around the bed while examining the man thoroughly. He took about one minute and then walked back out to Lestrade and sliding the curtain closed.

"This was an easy one...you'll find more of his slimy friends at the abandoned saw mill. They may well have left now, but surely you'll find some sort of evidence to take you another step further."

"I'm not even going to ask, I'll just get the boys and go. I'll be in touch soon, Sherlock. Thanks!" With that, Lestrade was off.

Sherlock didn't care that he wasn't "supposed" to be in the lab or the morgue right now. He was at the hospital on assignment from Lestrade. So that was good enough. He needed to at least start the process of apologizing. He was still afraid this would take a long time and he didn't want to be banished from his free use of the hospital any longer than necessary.

He had stepped off the elevator at the basement level and began heading toward the morgue. But he happened to catch the eye of a manager on his way.

"Oh hey there, Sherlock! If you're looking for Molly she's on her break upstairs."

Oh perfect, he thought. That was even better. He wasn't technically banned from the cafeteria. So he couldn't even be seen as bending the rules! He went right back up the elevator and straight to the cafeteria. He stopped at the entrance and scanned the room looking for the familiar long brown pony tail...and there she was sitting at a table along the wall not far from the entrance.

He did notice she was sitting at a table with a couple other women, but he wasn't deterred.

"Hello, Molly," he said rather brightly with a wide smile.

She looked up a little surprised and also glanced at the women sitting with her as she responded. "Um, Sherlock...what are you doing here?" she asked pointedly.

"Well I was here with Lestrade, and your manager told me you were in the cafeteria...so here I am."

Molly sighed and looked around the table again. "Okaaay...well, Sherlock, since you're here, this is my mother and my sister. Sherlock, this is my mother Laura, and this is my sister Becky."

"Hello," the two women said, staring up at him.

Sherlock reached out and shook each of the women's hands briefly. "Good to meet you both." He quickly looked back toward Molly. "Will you be long, Molly? I had wanted to talk to you if you have a moment."

She looked a bit irritated now. "Sherlock, my mother and sister just got in and are going to be staying with me. We're having lunch. Can't it wait?"

"Well I'm here now aren't I? Why don't I just wait for you in the lab?"

"Sherlock, that's not really part of-"

"Oh, don't get all upset, Molly, I won't touch anything," he said dismissively, and already turned to go before she could make any other argument.

He was feeling rather triumphant for a moment. He had made it impossible for her to avoid at least talking to him. And he felt pretty confident that he could get her warming up to him a little more today. But something he heard as he rounded the corner made him stop in his tracks.

"So that's him eh?  _The_  Sherlock Holmes!" he heard her sister say in a sing song voice.

Sherlock didn't usually care to eavesdrop on conversations, but something made him stop at the other side of the corner so he could still hear what the women were saying.

"Yep it is," Molly said in a small voice.

"I can see it, Molly, I don't blame you... though I'm not sure he would have been able to keep my attention for  _this_  long with it being one sided. That's getting a little sad!"

"Don't start, Beck, please," Molly begged.

Her mother then chimed in. "Molly, all kidding aside, this is unhealthy. You just ruined your future marriage over this man!" Sherlock scrunched up his nose in confusion "And look at him, he still doesn't care a jot about your feelings! It's plain from the way he talks to you."

"Mum, things are going to be different now ok? I promise...it's just different." Molly's voice sounded tired.

"I'm just sick of hearing your voice when you talk about working with him! It's awful. You either sound like a ridiculous child or a depressed person. It's got to stop! No man is worth that. Not him, not anyone!" Motherly concern oozed from her words.

"I have to agree, Molls," her sister began again. "I don't care how hot he is, you're being an idiot. You keep rushing back in for more hurt over and over! I actually used you as an example, anonymously of course, in my counseling group the other day. People were horrified...and those people are sick in the head, Molly!"

"Ugh!" he heard Molly groan. "Can we please move on and not discuss Sherlock anymore?" But it sounded like they were undeterred and continued to berate her for how ridiculous her attachment to him was.

Sherlock began to get sick of listening to this. He didn't just despise listening to people speak badly of him. He was also more than a little disturbed at the way they were speaking to Molly. He realized that he may be tactless at times, but they were speaking to her like she was a stupid child. He wanted to walk away and stop having to hear it all, but somehow he kept turning and then coming back again. Unable to pull himself away. She didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. And what was so horrible about the way she was with him? She was loyal and she cared and she wanted to be there for him. Weren't those qualities normal people admired? No, he realized, that wasn't what they were upset about. It was the fact that she'd never be able to get him. And that he didn't appreciate her the way they probably believed he should. They were trying to tell Molly that she was wrong...

But what if they were to find that she wasn't wrong? The wheels began spinning a mile a minute in Sherlock's head and he paced in a small circle as he worked it all out. Oh, it was perfect.

"Brilliant!" he whispered to himself. This would solve all the problems at hand, all at once! Sherlock then took a deep breath and straightened his coat a little. He stood up nice and tall and began to smile. Then he rounded the corner into the cafeteria once more.

"Sherlock!" Molly said a little loudly this time, probably trying to alert her mother and sister to immediately stop talking about him. "Why are you back?"

Sherlock sighed a little and smiled down at them. "Well, I just...I felt rather bad about how short I was a minute ago. I mean, I did need to speak to you, Molly, but I didn't mean make you all feel rushed." He looked around at them apologetically.

The two other women shook their heads, but Molly had frozen and was watching Sherlock with mouth hanging open and brow furrowed. She immediately knew something wasn't right about this picture. Especially when he then continued talking.

Sherlock whipped a chair from an empty neighboring table, set it down next to Molly, and then seated himself in it.

"I know I met you both, but I didn't want to leave a bad first impression. Not really the thing to do, is it? When you're meeting the family!" He laughed a little as he then wrapped an arm around Molly's shoulders and tugged her in close to his chest. Molly's sister and mother sat dumb founded as well now and looked back and forth at each other, and then to Sherlock who was hugging Molly.

He smiled down at Molly who was looking up at him with...well he couldn't tell which emotion. It was either anger or fear or confusion or attraction...maybe it was everything. But it didn't look good. And he knew exactly what to say next.

"Oh my- I'm sorry, darling, did you...did you not tell them?" He ended his sentence in no more than a worried whisper looking into Molly's eyes. She could only stare back at him raising her eyebrows, her expression closer to anger as the moments passed.

He looked back at Laura and Becky pressing his lips together and shaking his head in mock embarrassment. "I am  _so_  sorry. Clearly Molly had her own plans as to when you would hear the news. She probably told me, maybe I was in the middle of a case and didn't hear...I'm sure you know how I can get!" He managed to coax a nervous laugh from the two women.

"So you two are...together?" Molly's mother asked hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth between her now mute daughter and Sherlock.

"Yep!" Sherlock answered smiling happily at Molly again.

"Sherlock!" Molly said, suddenly finding her voice again. "May I see you for a minute? Mum, Becky, we will be right back." She got out of her chair and grabbed Sherlock's hand to drag him more quickly away. They got round the corner and Molly pulled him further away into the nearest doorway.

"My God, Sherlock! What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?!" she said as loudly as she could so that people wouldn't notice.

"Molly, I have a brilliant plan. I know exactly how I can make up for...everything." He looked way too pleased with himself.

"Oh really? By lying to my mother and sister?! What are you thinking?!"

He gripped her shoulders and looked seriously at her. "Molly, I know I have caused you a lot of hurt. Some of it is done. It's in the past and I can't undo my actions. But I do feel...badly about things. Recent things in particular. I didn't make a wise choice, and I wasn't a very good friend. But I hope to, in a way, repay you. Molly...I'm going to pretend to be in a loving and committed relationship with you while your family is visiting."

Molly opened her mouth, then quickly shut it. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched the bridge of her nose, and asked him while she did this, "Sherlock, are you taking drugs again?"

Sherlock heaved a sigh and took her hand away from her face making her eyes open again. "Come on, Molly! Don't you see?! They think you're an idiot for ever having feelings for me!...I know what you're thinking, and yes it's food for thought...but think about this. What happens when they see that you are actually dating me?"

"Hopefully they have me committed?"

"No! They realize you were right. I'm the one that just took a long time to come around. Because I couldn't see what you could! That we are perfect for each other!"

Molly's expression changed a bit and she bit her lip in some embarrassment. It didn't really matter what the circumstances were surrounding Sherlock's uttering those words, they were still flustering to hear.

"Focus, Molly." He drew her back to the conversation.

"Ok, but it's only temporary. It's a lie, and eventually I'll come out looking more stupid than ever! And you will too by the way," she added.

"Ah ha, but that is the best part of the plan, Molly. And the part that will undoubtedly peak your interest. I come out looking like the stupid one! They leave seeing us as a normal couple. Sometime later, I'd recommend at least a month, you tell your family that you have ended the relationship with me. You tell them that I didn't treat you right, or I wasn't good enough for you, or whatever it is that women usually say to make it clear that it wasn't their fault. I give you permission to tell them whatever you like about me. Within reason of course. Nothing that would damage my professional reputation. And you're welcome to say that I'm still begging to get you back, that I'm a mess without you, and all that stuff. You, Molly, come out looking independent, smart, and desirable. And I come out looking like the idiot. Then you can happily move one, without their interference. It will probably forever alter their view you and relationships."

But she had more concerns, as he knew she would.

"Sherlock, how do we explain the fact that nobody we know is aware of our relationship?"

"Oh that's easy! Aside from filling our very close friends in on the lie, we have the excuse of your recent broken engagement. We've been dating for about a month now, but in view of the fact that you only broke it off with Tom two months ago, we had felt it in bad taste to flaunt our happiness."

Molly was quiet for a moment. "But we wanted to say something now...because my family is visiting?"

"Exactly!" Sherlock felt that he was beginning to convince Molly.

"But, Sherlock...how is this one bit a hardship for you? You don't care what my family thinks of you when all is said and done."

"First of all, it's not about punishing me...no, it's not...it's about making you look better to them. And second, aren't there a million tiny ways women find to make their boyfriend's lives a living torment? Well congratulations, you have been awarded two weeks of that. Except of course if there's an important case! Then I will be temporarily unavailable."

She thought that over and stared back at him with her arms crossed now. She had one more concern, and it was a big one.

"But, Sherlock...I just don't know if you can, you know...convince them. I've just never seen you...you know what I mean."

Sherlock's lips curled in a slow smile and he chuckled in that low voice that always made her feel a little weak.

"Molly, please. I was in a relationship with Jeanine for weeks and weeks. And even she didn't know it was all fake! In this case I'm only having to convince your mother and sister of my feelings being genuine. This is worlds simpler! Do give me a little more credit."

She sighed loudly and looked around thinking. What was she thinking? What in the world was she thinking? She wondered how she could even begin to consider this. But at the same time she was already thrown into it, and felt the necessity to now see it through...and she couldn't deny the end result was tempting. How long had she been the stupid shy pathologist who had a crush on the handsome clever detective? Too long. Maybe it was time for people to see her in a different light. She prayed she wouldn't regret this...

"This had better work, Sherlock." She said giving him a stern look.

He clapped his hands together and grinned. "Oh it will. And when it does...am I forgiven?" He eyed her hopefully.

"Well...we'll have to see when we both make it out alive. But maybe you will be forgiven."

"Excellent! Let's go!"

But Molly grabbed him to stop him short.

"Wait! One more thing. You probably shouldn't lay it on too thick. I mean, they do know you, so..."

He frowned down at her. "Know me? They only just met me."

Molly began to turn shades of pink again along her cheeks. "Well, they've heard...enough from me to know you. So you really can't be too, you know...nice. It might make them suspect. You should be your normal self, but also a boyfriend."

He looked pleased. "See there, easier than Jeanine again! I don't even have to be any nicer than usual."

"Do me a favor, Sherlock, can you stop comparing this to Jeanine?"

"Hmm, does that bother you?" he asked a little teasingly.

"That's right, Sherlock. You current fake girlfriend resents it when you compare her to your ex fake girlfriend...and that's about as normal as it gets for you isn't it?"

Sherlock didn't answer, but he reached out his hand as he stepped from the confines of the doorway back into the hallway. Molly hesitated for just a second…and then took his hand. And they both walked back into the cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today! More coming tomorrow... ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who is following and cares... I am so very sorry that I never uploaded more chapters the day after I put the first 4 up. I was going away and it totally slipped my mind! It doesn't look like a ton of people are following this one though, so maybe I'm just talking to nobody lol! Anyway, I'm going to put a few more chapters up today, and then I'll start doing a couple a day till it's all uploaded. ;)

Molly rode the cab home that evening to meet her mother and sister and make some dinner. She was still a little on edge. The rest of her lunch break at the cafeteria with Sherlock and her mother and sister had been pretty uncomfortable for her. He'd spend the entire time either locking his fingers with hers, or keeping his arm around her shoulder, or smiling at her a little while saying something about their relationship. She began to question not that he could pull off the deception, but if she herself could.

She'd never seen Sherlock like that. Certainly not with her, but not with anyone else either. She'd never witnessed any of his false relationship with Jeanine, and that would have been her only chance to see anything close to this. So every time Sherlock had touched her warmly or spoke while his eyes glanced at her lips, she was overwhelmed. Half of her wanted to giggle and cover her face in giddy embarrassment, and the other half of her was disturbed at how easily such a false appearance could come to him. Where did it come from? She'd never saw him genuinely date anyone in the years she'd know him. He must have simply catalogued behaviors of happy couples away in his mind palace. And now he was using it all to his advantage. Then she got a text.

WE WILL NEED TO EXCHANGE SOME ITEMS. -SH

WHAT DO YOU MEAN? -MH

THINGS YOU KEEP AT MY FLAT AND THINGS I KEEP AT YOURS. -SH

Molly's eyes widened and she considered this for a moment. She could see where this was going.

THIS IS MOVING AWFULLY FAST. -MH

CLEARLY, MOLLY, IM NOT ASKING TO SPEND THE NIGHT. IM JUST SAYING IT SHOULD LOOK LIKE I HAVE. -SH

ALRIGHT...CAN YOU MEET ME IN THE LAB TOMORROW MORNING? -MH

WILL BE THERE. -SH

She sighed and tried to close her eyes and relax on the rest of the ride home. Because she knew she was in for it when she got back to her flat. Sure enough, when she walked through the door, her sister practically jumped on her.

"Molly! Oh my God! How could you not tell us you're going out with him now?!" she squealed.

"Oh really, Beck, it's not a big deal. I do keep some things to myself you know." At the moment Molly was frantically coming up with details in her mind, because she knew Becky was about to demand them.

She managed to push off questions through dinner, but by the time they had eaten and all sat around the table with wine in hand, she knew she'd have to start dishing out some details. Her mother spoke first.

"So, a month, Molly? And this has been a long time coming. How is it going then? Everything you've ever wished for?"

Molly could detect a note of doubt in her mother's voice. "Well, I'd say it's pretty wonderful. I'm not sure what I ever imagined it would be like. It always seemed such an unrealistic idea to me, no matter how much I wanted it. So, the reality doesn't compare to anything else I suppose."

"What's he like though, Molls?!" her sister pushed.

"Well..." Molly tried to formulate a reasonable answer. She didn't want to gush, seeing as this was still Sherlock. And just as she told him, she knew that if she over did it, it wouldn't have the ring of truth. "He's learning how to be a boyfriend. He's not perfect. But he's trying. He wants to be with me, and that's all that matters right now."

"So, how did this actually happen?" her mother questioned.

Now this was something Molly had prepared for. It was just a matter of choice for Molly. She already had an extensive catalogue of fantasy scenarios in her head which involved Sherlock confessing his love to her. She decided to pick the most realistic one, though she was tempted to use some of the other more ridiculous ones.

"One night I was working late. And he came in to use the lab and test some samples. I was going to leave, but he said 'no, stay.' And I wasn't sure why, but I stayed. He didn't talk to me for a while. Sherlock doesn't really chat. But suddenly he asked why I wasn't engaged anymore. I told him I had ended it. And when I did, he came over to me and he asked why. I didn't want to say at first, I was so nervous. But finally I said that I couldn't marry Tom because it wouldn't have been fair to him. He deserved someone who was only in love with him. And I wasn't...he's pretty good at figuring things out, so he got the point. And then...he kissed me."

"Aaaaw!" Becky cooed.

"Now what about the drug issue?" her mother shot out.

 _Oh great_ , Molly thought. She had hoped she wouldn't have to deal with this concern. So far, this plan was just making her look reckless.

"Mum, that wasn't what it seemed. He's clean now. It was actually for a case...I probably never should have told you that story weeks ago."

"Well, I'm not sure about it all to tell you the truth. I have a hard time imagining that he's suddenly in love with you after all these years. How do you know he's being honest?"

Molly had to hold back her laughter. "Oh don't worry, mum. I know exactly when he's honest." She heard her phone chime.

ARE YOU WITH YOUR FAMILY? -SH

YES -MH

DONT LET THEM SEE YOUR PHONE. -SH

Molly looked up at them with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I just have to answer him. I'll be right back." She got up and went to her room.

WHY? -MH

BECAUSE OUR TEXT FEED DOES NOT RESEMBLE THAT OF A DATING COUPLE...DELETE IT. -SH

Molly was impressed that he had thought of such a detail. Then something occurred to her.

ARE YOU WITHOUT AN ACTIVE CASE RIGHT NOW? -MH

MAYBE -SH

NO WONDER YOU'RE SO ON TOP OF THINGS. ;) -MH

BORED...DELETE NOW AND I'LL START SENDING RIDICULOUS TEXTS. -SH

Molly laughed quietly to herself and deleted their current text feed. She wasn't sad to lose any of that since those messages weren't meaningful in the least. She then went back to sit with her family.

"Sorry." They both smiled as if they knew it must be hard to tear herself away from Sherlock. "Would you both like some pie? I made your favorite last night, Becky. Blackberry!"

Molly got up and started getting plates and serving slices. Then she heard her phone chime on the table. She almost dove to get it, but then realized that these were now going to be staged messages. And it was probably best if they were seen.

"Aw, Molly! He misses you!" Becky made a little sad face.

Molly laughed a little and felt herself turning pink. "Well, he doesn't have an active case right now so..."

"Are we going to get to spend some time with him then?" her mother asked, and Molly wondered if the preferred answer was no.

"We just might, yes," she said directing a pointed smile at her mother.

"Well, why don't you invite him over tomorrow then?" her mother suggested. "I wouldn't want to miss this opportunity."

Molly rolled her eyes out of sight of her family and thought to herself that this could be an absolute blood bath. She really doubted Sherlock capable of getting away with all this. If he could pull of this deception, she would think him capable of almost anything. But she did hope he could do it. She would love to see the look of surprise on their faces at the reality of Sherlock being hers.

"Sounds good, mum. I'll text him soon."

The three women played cards for the next hour or so and Molly saw more texts, but decided not to check them yet. Best not to make too much of a scene. When she got in bed though, she decided to see what Sherlock had come up with.

YOU LOOKED BEAUTIFUL TODAY. I SHOULD HAVE KISSED YOU. IM SURE YOUR MOTHER WOULDN'T HAVE MINDED. -SH

CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU TOMORROW. -SH

BORED. I WANT YOU HERE WITH ME. -SH

Molly's breath hitched at the last text. It was almost too real. It sounded like Sherlock, and she could almost hear him saying it. He was bored. He had already told her he was. And she had to remind herself that this was all a game. She wondered if it would make her feel better or worse that she now had to respond the same style of affection. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she started typing on the key pad.

I'D LIKE TO BE THERE WITH YOU...AND YOU CAN MAKE UP FOR TODAY BY KISSING ME TOMORROW. XXX -MH

She wasn't surprised that he was still up and she got a response within the minute.

IF I DO THAT I'LL NEVER WANT TO LEAVE THE HOSPITAL. -SH

GOOD :) CAN YOU COME OVER FOR DINNER TOMORROW NIGHT? AROUND 7. MY MUM WANTS YOU TO. -MH

YOU'DE BETTER PREPARE ME FOR WHATEVER SHE'S GOING TO BE ASKING ME. WHAT IF I CONTRADICT WHAT YOU'VE ALREADY SAID?...DELETE THIS. FAKE TEXT TO FOLLOW... -SH

CAN'T WAIT. -SH

Molly laughed almost out loud and had to cover her mouth as the giggles subsided.

WE'LL TALK TOMORROW...GOODNIGHT. -MH

GOODNIGHT DARLING. -SH

Molly set her phone down on the night stand. She lay back against her pillow and began worrying about her ability to continue with this, unaffected. Her plan as of two days ago had been to slowly phase Sherlock's looming presence out of her life. She had hoped that this would mean any residual feelings would begin to fade. But this wasn't going to be happening at all the way she imagined now. Suddenly Sherlock was fake texting her sweet nothings as she sat in bed. It was too real, and she had to keep reminding herself it wasn't. She was actually looking forward to seeing the real Sherlock tomorrow at Bart's. Because she needed to rid her mind of the alternate reality of these text messages.

She hoped that Sherlock would do a good job convincing her family. But she knew it would be best if he didn't convince her.


	6. Chapter 6

Molly had barely begun to work the next morning when Sherlock came in and knocked on the door of the lab. She let him in and she could see he had with him a bag of things to give her.

"Sorry, Sherlock, I didn't expect you this early. I thought you'd be another hour or so. My things are in my locker down stairs. You mind just popping down to get them? We can go now if you're in a hurry."

"May as well. I have a breakfast date with John and Mary in a half hour. I told John I wanted to meet up with them, and seeing as things mostly revolve around food for Mary these days, I'll get breakfast with them."

"You mean you'll have coffee while they eat breakfast," Molly said with a smile as she opened the door again so they could leave the lab and head down stairs.

Sherlock smiled but said nothing. Then a moment later, he changed the subject.

"So what did you tell them yesterday? Anything I should know?"

Molly pushed the button as they got in the elevator. "Well I did tell them how we got...started." Molly proceeded to give Sherlock the same description that she had given to her mother and sister the night before.

Sherlock frowned as she finished. "Pfft! I just kissed you? Just like that, without a word? Seems a little out of the blue doesn't it? Not really believable."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, that was the best I could do. Nothing of the sort is believable when it comes to you! What would you rather I have said? You launched into a fifteen minute deduction of my feelings and then you grabbed me and kissed me?"

"Maybe," he said quietly.

"What do you think we did on our first date?" Molly asked.

"We got coffee here at Bart's."

Molly frowned and stared at him for a moment. He turned and saw her face and questioned with his own eyes what could be wrong.

"That cannot be out first date, Sherlock. We have coffee here all the time. That's real life! If that was our first date then it took place about five years ago...why aren't we married by now?!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as the elevator came to a halt and they walked out into the basement hallway.

"Fine! You come up with the first date! But I thought you said they knew me and this had to be realistic."

"Well, that's true...I know! You took me out on a case!"

This time Sherlock shot her the accusing look. "But I've actually done that."

"Yes, but that time you asked me to get dinner and I said no. So on our first date, you actually did take me out to eat. So instead of dinner and a movie, it was dinner and a crime. That can make it a proper date!" She smiled, pleased with herself.

"How exactly does food turn it into a proper date?" Sherlock asked in disgust. "It's not just Mary is it? Everybody's lives revolve around food apparently!"

Molly shrugged. "Food is fun."

She opened the locker room door and they went in to retrieve the bag of things for Sherlock. She took out the plastic bag that was carefully packed with toiletries and products. He took it and looked inside. Then he looked back at her and narrowed his gaze.

"You haven't included any clothes, sleep wear, or undergarment. That's completely unrealistic."

Molly began to turn red and was barely able to make eye contact. "Sherlock...I don't think it's a big deal. It's unlikely that my mother and sister will even be coming to Baker Street during their stay anyway. And even if they did, I think they won't feel the need to rifle through the drawers in your bedroom! That's likely where any clothing items of mine would be. Remember, not everyone's a detective."

"Hmm…yes it's a good thing. If it were me we were trying to fool, we'd have our work cut out for us! Anyway, you'll notice I did include a rather full array of items for you to keep at your flat. This will of course help make a bigger impression since they will see it while staying with you."

"Yes I'm sure..." She peered into the bag, but still felt a little embarrassed to go looking through right in front of him.

Sherlock turned and Molly followed him back out the door. They walked down the hallway back to the elevator and then Sherlock spoke again once they were inside.

"I already made mention to Mrs. Hudson of our...unusual arrangement for the next two weeks, so she won't be any trouble. And I plan to fill John and Mary in as well. God knows John wouldn't be very good at hiding his shock and awe if he were to be confronted with us behaving as a couple without being forewarned. In fact he still may not be very good at hiding it."

"Right. Well they aren't likely to see us with too many more people. It's not like you have a large circle of friends, Sherlock. And neither do I in fact. So that should be enough to cover us pretty well."

Sherlock took a deep breath and then spoke quickly as the elevator doors began to open.

"By the way, I'm sure you're already aware that it would be reasonable, and most of all realistic, for me to start kissing you tonight. In view of your mother and sister, that is." He stepped out of the elevator, only to turn and see Molly standing there immobile. He had to put his hand out and stop the doors from closing. "You coming, Molly?"

Molly blinked a few times, and then tried to compose her thoughts. "Right. Yes, I'm coming...here I come."

They continued to walk down the hall and Molly was completely at a loss for words. Should she make some comment indicating that of course that was fine and what else would they be doing as a dating couple? Or she wondered if she should discourage this step.

"You can't possibly think we could get away with this deception by occasionally holding hands? I assume you've done a bit more than that with your past boyfriends after dating them a month," he shot out, reading her mind.

"Not your business, Sherlock."

"Right...well anyway, just didn't want it to come as a complete shock to you. I can hardly ask permission in front of them to kiss you. May just come off as a bit odd."

He spoke in such a matter of fact way about the whole thing, that Molly would have thought he was giving her the heads up about an incoming rain storm. She tried to do her best at following his casual lead.

"Sure, fine then. You can go ahead and kiss me anytime- no! I mean, not any-, I just mean...oh forget it, you know what I mean," she muttered, as the attempt at casual melted away with the rush of heat to her face.

Sherlock smirked a little and she felt like slapping him again. He could see what he did to her. And apparently, now he was amused by it. He turned to go then down the opposite direction toward the exit.

"I'll see you tonight, Molly. Try to act happy to see me!" he called out behind him.

Molly shook her head as she turned and headed back to the lab. By the time she got there, she felt her mobile buzz in her lab coat pocket. She opened the text and rolled her eyes.

YOU'LL HAVE TO STOP KISSING ME LIKE THAT WHEN I VISIT YOU AT WORK...IT'S GETTING HARDER AND HARDER FOR ME TO LEAVE. -SH

Molly couldn't help herself...

NO PROBLEM. I'LL ARRANGE FOR YOU TO STAY. THERE'S A NICE COLD METAL SLAB WITH YOUR NAME ON IT. AND YOUR OWN FREEZER BOX AS WELL...DELETE THIS. FAKE REPLY COMING... -MH

THAT'S NOTHING. JUST WAIT TILL TONIGHT...XOXO -MH


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock came into the cafe and sat down at the table with John and Mary, who had already gotten their plates of food and coffee. They had gotten him a cup of coffee too, so Sherlock sat down and immediately took a couple sugar packets. He was not looking forward to sharing the plans he had made with Molly. He fully expected to hear a mouthful, at least from John.

"Sherlock, what's in the bag?" Mary asked, spotting the unusual item he was carrying right away.

"Oh just some...personal items."

Leave it to Mary, he thought, to pick up on the clues.

"Why you carrying them with you though?" she pushed further.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He supposed he would have to jump right into it. "Alright, they are personal items of Molly's. Toiletries and things such as that. I will be keeping them at my flat."

Both John and Mary stopped mid mouthful of food and stared at him. John additionally dropped his fork on the plate before responding.

"Sorry what?" John forced out.

"Molly Hooper and I will be involved in a fake relationship for the next two weeks. Her family is visiting and they were being terribly rude to her about her devotion to me, so I offered to make her look like she wasn't the crazy one. I act the devoted boyfriend, and they come to appreciate her choices a little more. Then of course she terminates the invented relationship sometime after they have gone home. I've given her permission to make the whole thing entirely my fault. If she manages to humiliate me in the process, so be it. I'm willing to, what do people say? Take one for the team? This is all in the hopes that she comes to understand that I care enough about her as a friend to make such a gesture, and then she forgives me for my most recent offense." Sherlock calmly took a sip of his coffee.

John and Mary continued to stare at him, and then they very slowly turned and looked at each other. Mary then put her fork down also and looked back at Sherlock.

"Only you, Sherlock. Are you trying to help or make things worse?"

"Mary, please, Molly agreed to the plan and things are already going quite well. I'm going to her flat this evening to spend some time with her and her mother and sister. Believe me, her family desperately needed to be put in their place!"

"And who's going to put you in your place, you idiot?" John added. "I've seen you pretend to be a boyfriend and it's pretty frightening. Frighteningly strange...and convincing. You do realize that Molly will have a difficult time with this?"

"So far her difficulty seems to be putting up with me. She's still at least a bit angry at me and doesn't seem to appreciate the underlying sarcasm in some of my fake text messages."

"Text messages? You're sending her fake text messages? Ok, let me see." John reached his hand out and beckoned with his fingers for him to hand over his phone.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Then he opened his messages and scrolled to Molly's text feed before handing it to John.

John's eyes started to double in size as he began reading through. "Oh my God! Mary, look at this!" Mary leaned in to read along with him. She squealed in laughter while John continued to look horrified.

"Sherlock, you should really give John some pointers. Those texts are just lovely!" She shoved her husband teasingly.

"My real point in telling you both is to eliminate the chance that you would give us away if we end up all being at the same place during these two weeks," he said, getting the conversation back to business and reclaiming his phone. "Wouldn't look right if my best friend was having a conniption simply because I have a girlfriend. You could barely compose yourself and talk about anything else when you saw me with Jeanine!"

John shook his head. "I cannot promise anything, Sherlock. Even if you are giving me fair warning, it's all too bizarre. It's Molly! The woman you've never looked twice at for years! And suddenly you'll be acting all...lovey. It's almost harder to handle than Jeanine!"

"Not for me, John. At least I care a bit about Molly." After Sherlock took another sip of his coffee, he threw some money on the table and got up to go. "You two enjoy the rest of your breakfast. Talk to you soon, John."

He came to the other side of the table and gave Mary a little kiss on the cheek. "You'll let me know if the big day arrives?" he added with a smile.

"A few weeks yet, Sherlock. But yes, we'll let you know."

Sherlock picked up the bag of Molly's things and waved as he turned and left the cafe.

John turned to his wife and sighed. "What are the chances you'd be willing to shoot him again?"

* * *

Molly was trying to be relaxed. She was trying really hard. She hoped and prayed that she wasn't about to make an idiot out of herself. Or that Sherlock wasn't about to make an idiot out of them both. She couldn't calm herself down since she knew she would have to act normal despite the fact that Sherlock was going to kiss her.

Sherlock was going to kiss her...

"Molly! Watch the wine glasses!" Becky yelled suddenly as Molly almost leaned her back into a few on the counter.

"Oh! Sorry, Beck." Molly ran a hand through her hair.

"Hey, it's ok. Don't be so nervous." Becky squeezed her sister's hand. "It'll be fine. If you're happy with him, we're happy with him too. Ok? And I did tell mum to take it easy."

Molly managed a relieved smile. And then her pulse rate shot up again as she heard a knock at her door. She stayed frozen, and heard her mother open the door and let Sherlock in. Her sister automatically went through the doorway to say hello as well. Molly couldn't bring herself to leave the kitchen though, and went to unnecessarily stir the soup.

She gave a little yelp a moment later though as she felt two hands slide around her middle. Then she scrunched her shoulders a little as she felt a tickle of curls brush her neck.

"Relax, Molly," he murmured in a low whisper by her ear. "They can probably see us."

Then he pressed a soft kiss on her neck right below her ear. Molly shivered a bit and she hoped he couldn't feel it. She was then alerted that speaking for the audience had begun when Sherlock said at a normal volume, "You look lovely in that dress, darling. I've never seen it before."

Not surprising. You never see me outside the hospital, she thought. But she said, "I haven't had it too long." She continued moving the spoon around in the pot as she stood by the stove.

Sherlock watched her, as she kept her eyes fixed on the steaming liquid, and realized how nervous she was. And he knew this was never going to work if she didn't feel completely comfortable. So he needed to make her comfortable. He couldn't kiss her or say unusual things to make that happen either. That would do the opposite right now.

Sherlock let go of her waist and took hold of her hand, then he spoke to the women in the living room.

"Forgive me, I must steal Molly for just a moment! We will be right back!" He pulled her out of the out the other door from the kitchen and into the bathroom. Then he closed the door behind them.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Do you want to do this?" he asked seriously, staring at her face.

"Y-yes."

"If you aren't comfortable, I will make my apologies and blame this facade all on me and I will leave. But you need to tell me now for sure."

"No. No, it's ok. I'm ok." She tried to sound convincing.

"Molly, if you can't relax with me, this will never work anyway. I didn't think I made you nervous anymore. So I didn't think that would cause a problem."

She sighed. "Well maybe talking to you doesn't make me nervous anymore, but kissing my neck is just a little different than talking! It's hard to jump into something like that with no history of anything else close to it."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I understand...but just, look at me Molly. Look at me!" He took her hands in his. "We are friends. And I do care about you. So I'm not faking that, if that's what bothers you."

"You don't always show it, Sherlock. So it's hard to remember sometimes." She kept her eyes connected to his, trying to make him understand.

"Look, Molly, if you find yourself feeling nervous just...hold my hand. Just like this." He squeezed her hands gently. "Do you think that would help?"

Her first thought was, how ridiculous! Sherlock is offering his hand in support?! But then she realized that standing here feeling his strong hands surrounding her own, her breathing had slowed and she was more relaxed. It wasn't his presence alone that made her nervous. It was more about the anticipation of what he could do or say next. But if she had that reminder of emotional support, instead of just the more blatant physical affection, that may actually help. She felt like she could do this now, and do it happily.

"Ok. You're right, it would help. But I may end up holding your hand a lot more than you'd like."

"You think I'm scared of holding your hand, Molly? Remember, I did just kiss your neck." He smiled slyly as he opened the bathroom door again. But before they walked out he turned the tap on and applied some water to a small area of his shirt.

"Sorry!" he announced when they came back into the kitchen again. "Had a spot on my shirt."

"Oh sure he did," Becky teased and nudged her sister.

The four of them ate the soup that Mrs. Hooper had made. Even Sherlock ate a bit. Mostly the three women talked through the meal and during the tea they had afterward. Molly felt that Sherlock was doing a good job of being himself. He didn't really chat. Only when Becky or Mrs. Hooper asked him a question about his life or work did he open up much. Molly could see him out of the corner of her eye, occasionally watching her intently as she spoke. And it was enough. Enough to give the impression of affection without going overboard.

"Sherlock, Molly told us a while ago that you'd been shot. Are you fully recovered? No complications I hope," Mrs. Hooper said as she poured herself more tea.

"I seem to be back to my normal self, Mrs. Hooper, I'm happy to say."

"That must have been an awful experience for you. Even though you're surely used to danger in your line of work. Do you remember it at all? Getting shot I mean. I've heard that many people don't. It all becomes a blank in that moment. They wake up later wondering what had happened."

"Maybe Sherlock would rather not talk about it mum," Molly interjected.

"No, it's alright, Molly." he said touching her arm. "I don't mind."

And as Sherlock was about to relate some of what he remembered, he realized that it would prove extremely useful given the circumstances.

"I wasn't awake for very long. It was really only a few seconds. But it was enough time for me to use information in my mind palace. Information to make my chances of survival more likely. I needed information. And I needed to focus. I was able to do that...with Molly's help." Sherlock covered her hand with his own on the table.

"Molly's help? How was she there?" Becky questioned.

"She wasn't. Not really, of course. But she's up here." He touched his head. "I needed someone to tell me what to do. How to improve my chances. And she did that. It was mostly her. She helped me figure things out. She was calm and firm, but also comforting. And that was what I needed. I can still hear her voice asking me the right questions, and telling me what was happening. I remembered that after it was all over. I'll certainly be forever grateful for that. For her being the voice that I needed."

"Well, it wasn't really me," Molly added modestly. "It was information already stored in your mind palace."

"Yes it was. But I wanted to hear it from you. I needed you to tell me." Sherlock locked their fingers together and squeezed. He looked at her rather seriously, but then smiled a little.

Molly was impressed. She had to admit he was coming up with some pretty good stuff. She couldn't have thought of something like that even if she tried. Naturally, she blushed at hearing such an expression come from Sherlock. And when she glanced at her mother, she actually saw a happy smile. Her mother was being won over. And that was no small thing.

Just then, Sherlock took his phone from his pocket to open a message. Molly saw his eyes widen as he read it.

"Oh... _finally_!" he exclaimed and jumped up from the chair.

"What? What is it?" Molly asked, standing up as well.

"There's a lead. A lead on Moriarty's message." Sherlock began walking into the living room and taking his coat from the hook beside the door. "They may have gotten an IP address we can track. I'll be needed with Lestrade immediately."

"Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?" Molly asked, feeling a little uneasy about the prospect of Sherlock delving into this mystery. She didn't have to fake her reluctance to let him go.

"No, no. Stay here. I'll text you later," he answered quickly, not looking at her...then he remembered himself. He remembered how his exit was supposed to go. He saw that Mrs. Hooper and Becky were standing in the kitchen doorway, observing the two of them. Once he'd gotten his coat on, he focused back on Molly. He knew he couldn't rush off the way he normally would. Sherlock reached up and placed a hand on each side of Molly's face. First he kissed her forehead, and she responded by grasping his wrists.

"You'd better be careful," she whispered.

"Nothing's going to happen to me. I'm not done with you yet," he whispered back. He did seem to hesitate just a tiny bit, but he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. A gentle touch at first, but then the warmth and pressure increased and Molly began to feel a little lightheaded. Sherlock pulled away and he smiled at her, in a way that seemed to say, not so bad right? She smiled back and then had to let go of his hands as they slid away from her face.

Sherlock looked toward the silent observers. "Mrs. Hooper, Becky, forgive me for my quick exit. I'm sure we will be seeing each other again soon. And thank you for the dinner."

The two of them waved and told him they looked forward to next time. Sherlock smiled at Molly one more time, and then slid quickly out the door. Molly walked away from the door feeling a little dazed.

"Look at you, Molls! You still turn that red when he kisses you? That's adorable!" Becky said squeezing her sister's shoulder.

"Oh well, you know," Molly said with a nervous laugh. "Every time is like the first time."


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock worked almost through the night with Lestrade and others. Everywhere they searched, every angle they took, came up empty. Sherlock was beyond frustrated. He didn't wish there to be a horrible plot of some kind, but he also didn't want to assume that the public message had been meaningless. There was always a reason for everything. And he had to figure out what the meaning was behind this. If Moriarty was alive, he surely had a plan of some kind. And it was only a matter of time till it surfaced. And if another criminal or group was using Moriarty's identity, they would think highly enough of themselves to come up with something just as terrible as Moriarty himself.

Mycroft had been following the investigation with the utmost interest of course. He was especially concerned with every lead, and every shred of evidence that they chased. It was Mycroft that called Sherlock in the early hours of that following morning when he had finally gotten back to Baker Street.

"It's a dead end, Sherlock. I've just spoken to Lestrade myself. You'll have to wait till something else surfaces."

"Ugh!" he growled as he stalked around his flat. "I can't just sit around and wait! Whoever sent that message had a reason for it, and it can't be a good one."

"And that will surely become evident in time. Besides, you're not just sitting around doing are you? You're busy with work. Normal work. You should be quite content. Where would you be right now if we hadn't all seen that message?"

"I don't like not having answers," he said in a sulky voice.

"I know the feeling, Sherlock. As a matter of fact, I was wondering if you could give me some answers. What exactly were you doing at Molly Hooper's flat last night?"

Sherlock sat up straight in his chair that he had been slouched in a moment before. He hadn't thought to inform Mycroft about this thing with Molly. And of course Mycroft had found out. He watched his little brother's every move. He'd be forced to come out with it now...

"I was having dinner with her and her mother and sister. Problem?"

"That's what I was wondering, Sherlock. The last time you went running to Miss Hooper, you were about to leap off a roof. Anything you'd like to tell me?"

"Not really, but I suppose I'll have to, wont I? As a favor to Molly, I am pretending to be her boyfriend while her family is visiting. They've always thought it foolish that she had feelings for me. I'd like to make her look...less foolish."

There was a small silence before Mycroft spoke. "My my, Sherlock...this makes two fake relationships in the past few months. This must be some sort of a record. You really must be bored to take on a project like this!"

"It's a favor for a friend, Mycroft! And it will be done in less than two weeks. I'd like to hear no more about it. I only ask that you refrain from exposing us in the presence of her family."

"Just be careful, Sherlock. If you keep pretending to need a woman in your life, before you know it, you really will need one."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and fell back against the back of his chair. "Oh please! I'm sure you have larger matters of concern, Mycroft. I certainly wouldn't want to keep you busy talking about my invented love life."

"Just don't get carried away brother." Mycroft hung up.

Sherlock was too frustrated by this mysterious case to even think about Molly at that moment. So he wasn't excited when he then received a text from her.

HOW DID IT GO LAST NIGHT? I WAS WORRIED. -MH

He knew he had to respond, but couldn't be bothered to come up with anything amorous.

DEAD END. AGAIN. -SH

SORRY...I'LL BE AT BART'S IN ANOTHER HOUR. COME SEE ME IF YOU'D LIKE. I MISS YOU. -MH

Sherlock sighed and set his mobile on the small table by his chair. The whole thing was no doubt exhausting. Even he was becoming muddled by these texts. He had to look at every text from her now and sift out what was just for show. Was she really worried last night? She was most likely truly going to work. But did she really want him to come to Bart's for some reason? He hoped that she wasn't having similar difficulty with his messages.

He had to admit that Mycroft did have a point. He couldn't let himself get carried away. He had of course been on fire to leave Molly's flat last night when he received Lestrade's text. But then he was surprised at himself. Because when he kissed Molly, it was like time stopped for just a moment. He forgot wanting to rush right out the door, and all he could focus on was the feeling of her lips against his and her small hands holding onto his wrists. He hadn't expected it since that had never been the case with Jeanine. He was barely aware of their physical affection. He went through the motions, mostly just following her lead. But that was pretty much it. But that little kiss with Molly...it was extremely...distracting. He had to actually let go of her for his previous focus on leaving to return to him. Sherlock had seen it as a reminder that it was truly a disadvantage to be romantically attached. How did people who were actually in love get things done? How were they able to focus on other important things with those stupid feelings clouding their minds all the time? He felt sorry for them all.

Perhaps he would go into Bart's this morning after all. It would be useful to know what, if anything else, Molly had planned involving him in the next few days. He couldn't sleep yet anyway. The frustration made it impossible. Sherlock also decided to walk some of the streets in London and clear his head a little before heading to Bart's. He thought he could certainly use it this morning.

* * *

Molly was just beginning to test a biopsy sample when she saw Sherlock at the door of the lab. She ran over pulling her gloves off.

"Well, hello...I didn't realize you were coming. Do you have any official business today?" She emphasized the word official.

Sherlock came in, undeterred by the tone of her question. "Well you did ask me to come."

Molly huffed, a little irritated at his confidence. "Not really, Sherlock. I said come by if you want to. Besides, I didn't think you were taking my texts seriously. You do remember we are including some rather inaccurate things by text these days."

"I chose to take this invitation seriously," he said simply, clasping his hands behind him. "I thought we should discuss the upcoming days. Is there anything I'll be required to participate in?- Is that…part of a kidney?" He looked a little longingly at what Molly was working on.

"Don't even think about it, Sherlock. Off limits! These results are expected as soon as possible. There's no room for you to do any extras or have any fun...and to answer your other question, no I can't think of anything as of yet that you should be included in. I have tomorrow off and will be taking my mother and sister to the aquarium. Then the day after that I have to work, and they'll be keeping busy. The following day we go to an art museum... I'm not sure what's after that, but I'll be sure to keep you informed."

Sherlock nodded, and then he began slowly. "So...what do they think?"

Molly knew what he meant. She cocked her head and was thoughtful a moment.

"Well, they're...they're really happy for me. They think you're lovely. Really. Despite all of your...ways. They do like you. Especially after last night. I was impressed, I have to say. No wonder Jeanine never caught on!" She laughed a little but looked away, seeming uncomfortable even at her own mention of Jeanine.

"It didn't come so easily with Jeanine," he said quietly.

Molly's eyes shot up to look back at Sherlock. "Really? That's surprising...she was lovely. Seemed you two got on well, right away at the wedding."

"Perhaps. It was still a challenge to put up with her though. She was terribly shallow. And she didn't enjoy hearing about my cases either...nor did she have at her disposal, an endless supply of corpses and body parts. You are the far superior fake girlfriend." He grinned ridiculously at her.

"You do know how to talk to a girl don't you, Sherlock? Ok I've got work to do. You should go."

"Molly..." He advanced a little closer, dropping his voice an octave, turning it into a delicious sounding whisper. "Couldn't I just-"

"Absolutely not. You'll need to leave, thank you." She congratulated herself on standing her ground, though she desperately wanted to let him stay and do whatever he pleased as long as he continued speaking to her in that soft low voice.

He pressed his lips together in frustration as he saw he was getting nowhere. "I need to check my emails and get a case...this is insufferable!" He reluctantly made his way back to the door.

As Molly saw him out and he left the doorway, she added, "Oh by the way, Sherlock, that was a pretty amazing touch you added to the description of your being shot. Me giving you instructions in your mind palace! I mean, really! Even I never would have thought of that."

Sherlock turned back to face her and came a little closer as he smiled slyly. "Well, Molly, I can't say it took much effort. Because, you see...I didn't make one bit of that up."

Molly's silly smile fell away immediately. She stared up at him in disbelief, but could see he was being serious. She couldn't force her mouth closed, and was trying to come up with some words to push out. And just when she was about to say something...

"Well! You're very busy and I'd hate to keep you. I'm sure you'll be in touch, Molly!" He turned on his heels before she had the chance to say anything in reply.

Molly continued to stand there completely shocked in the doorway, until he wasn't even in view anymore. She leaned on the door frame and tried to process this information...she felt she could really use her own mind palace right about now...and then she felt a text arrive in her pocket, as she somehow knew it would.

YOU CAN'T ALLOW YOURSELF TO BECOME SO DISTRACTED BY ME AT WORK DARLING. TRY TO MAINTAIN YOUR FOCUS. I'D HATE TO GET YOU IN TROUBLE. -SH

Oh, he was asking for it. Molly fired off a reply...

I HOPE YOU'RE ABLE TO CONCENTRATE ON DEDUCTIONS... IT SEEMS YOU CAN'T GET ME OUT OF YOUR MIND LATELY. ;) -MH

NOT TO WORRY. I CAN DELETE UNNECESSARY DATA FROM MY MIND EXTREMELY EASILY...I'LL DELETE THIS TEXT AS WELL... -SH

She laughed to herself and shook her head as she went back into the lab and tried to get back to her work at hand. And she tried not to think about the fact that she really missed Sherlock already, and she really wished she had just told him to stay. She thought about the fact that she had somehow managed to make her way into the extensive mind palace of Sherlock Holmes. She had no idea what it was like in that place...but she certainly hoped she would get to stay there for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Will add chapters 9 & 10 tomorrow. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock had managed to keep himself busy for the couple days after he had seen Molly at the hospital. He took a few minor cases from his emails, even though they were rated at no more than a five. Then on the third day Lestrade had called him to come in to a crime scene. The police were, as usual according to Sherlock, at a loss. And nobody in the neighborhood had anything helpful to offer.

Sherlock arrived at the small house and made his way inside. Lestrade greeted him and gave him what information they had.

"So we got calls from the neighbors saying they heard gun shots. And when we got here, this was the scene. The woman was already dead. Three shots to the chest. She lived alone and she's certainly not talking, so there's no witnesses. The neighbors didn't see anything either. The back door isn't quite shut properly, so the intruder probably went out that way. Could have cut through that section of trees to the other road. But we just have no idea who we'd be looking for. Nothing to go on."

"Oh, I think there is. Otherwise you wouldn't have called me." They walked into the kitchen.

The middle aged woman lay face down next to the stove. Sherlock walked over toward her and then glanced down to the wood floor. Then he glanced up behind him at the wall where a couple pictures hung. He looked across the room as well and saw a sauce pan on the floor. Then he carefully stepped over the body and observed the stove top, finding that it was on, as he expected.

"Well Lestrade, I have good news for you. The killer has recently acquired some defining features and shouldn't be too hard to find. You need to call all the local walk in clinics and shelters. Ask them to notify you if someone comes in with a badly burned face or upper body. You'll probably find your killer within the day."

"Really? Well...how would you know about burns?"

Sherlock sighed. "Did nobody else notice the fact that the floor was wet, and the pot was about eight feet away from the victim who was at the stove?"

"Well...she was cooking when she was shot. So that seemed a logical answer."

"Lestrade, you don't fling a cooking pot full of water across the room simply because you get shot. You do it out of self-defense! If the floor around the stove had been wet, it would have been accidental. But she flung it many feet away. Not just forward, but upward. You see the pictures on the wall, which are about eye level for me, are also wet. In fact what's likely is that the suspect shot her because she flung boiling water at them. They were already pointing a gun at her, but that must have been what made them actually shoot. She was trying to do something smart, but it may have been very stupid."

"Well...you're right." Lestrade looked a little ashamed. "That's why we call you. I'll start contacting the clinics and shelters. Hopefully someone turns up with some burns."

"They will, most likely. You can't ignore burns, the pain doesn't fade so quickly...oh and by the way Lestrade, I thought you should be aware that Molly and I are now dating." He said it, and then realized that he hadn't made mention of the fact that this was a completely false relationship. He could see the shock in Lestrade's face. "Oh it's not real though. It's just for while her family is visiting."

"Well that's...interesting, Sherlock. I'd say I'm happy for you, but that would be weird since you're not really dating her. In truth, it's actually a little disturbing. But...thanks for the heads up." Lestrade smiled uncomfortably.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Sherlock decided to take his leave. "Well I'll let you continue on with the investigation inspector. You know where to find me if needed."

He caught a cab outside and decided to head home since he had no other pressing business. On the way, his mobile rung and he saw it was Molly calling.

"Hi, Sherlock!" she said in a cheery voice.

"What is it?" he replied flatly, since he had no audience to fool.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing...you see I left a pair of earrings at your flat."

"You're with them right now, aren't you?"

She laughed nervously. "Yes, yes I am."

"So how could your earrings be at my flat?"

"Well, you know that little box I keep in your bathroom? I have it there to put my jewelry in when I take a shower...well I think I left them in there."

"So...the box you gave me in that bag already contained the earrings?"

"Mmhm...is it possible for me to get them from you? They were my grandmother's and my sister would really like to borrow them while she's visiting."

Sherlock was just pulling up to his flat already. "Why don't I drop them by?...Sir, can you wait for just a moment? I need to get something upstairs and then I'll need you to take me somewhere else," he said to the driver.

"We're at my flat. Are you sure? You really don't mind?"

"I don't. I was hoping to find something else to do anyway. It's not even four. I'd hate to go home now." He went up the stairs to find what Molly was looking for. He dumped the contents of the bag onto his coffee table and saw the little box. He opened it. "Are they diamond earrings?"

"They are! Oh, I'm so glad I was right. If they weren't there, I'd be in a lot of trouble!" He heard her exhale in relief.

"Right, well I'll be there in about ten."

"Thank you, darling, I appreciate it," she said softly.

Sherlock hung up and stuck the earrings in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He went back downstairs and got in the cab, directing the driver to Molly's flat. On the way over he came up with what he felt was an excellent plan. It seemed a waste to stop at his "girlfriend's" flat and not do anything else once there, except drop off earrings. He began texting Molly.

I'LL STAY FOR A BIT WHEN I COME OVER...WE SHOULD FIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING... -SH

WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHY SHOULD WE DO THAT? -MH

BECAUSE NORMAL COUPLES DO ARGUE FROM TIME TO TIME. -SH

OK... WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO ARGUE ABOUT? -MH

YOU'RE A WOMAN. I THINK THAT'S BEST LEFT TO YOU...THINK OF SOMETHING, THEN PICK ON IT. DO I REALLY NEED TO TELL YOU HOW TO DO THAT? -SH

YOU MAY END UP BEING SORRY. -MH

GOOD. BE CONVINCING...NOW DELETE THESE TEXTS. -SH

I THINK I'M AWARE OF WHEN I NEED TO DO THAT BY NOW SHERLOCK. -MH

OH GOOD...YOU'RE ALREADY IRRITATED AT ME. THAT SHOULD HELP. -SH

Sherlock smiled to himself, thinking that this could be an entertaining aspect of pretending to date a woman. He got to argue, just for the show of it. And he felt it was likely he would come out looking like the one in the right.

* * *

He knocked on Molly's door a few minutes later and she answered with what seemed like a forced smile. As he came through the door she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, saying hello. Molly's mother and sister called out hellos from the kitchen where they were sitting. Sherlock responded, then gestured to Molly that they should go to her bedroom. She led the way, and he followed. When she went to close the door he stopped her, then sent a text.

THEY'LL BE ABLE TO HEAR US JUST ENOUGH IN HERE IF WE HAVE THE DOOR OPEN. -SH

Molly took out her phone and sent a reply.

YOU SURE ABOUT THIS? -MH

Sherlock sent no reply, but shot her a look indicating the fact that this was not anything he was afraid of. Molly shrugged, cleared her throat, and began.

"Sherlock, I really don't feel comfortable about the fact that you still have text messages from that Irene on your mobile."

Sherlock's eyes doubled in size as he shot her a look of shock. Oh, thought Molly, I've hit a nerve have I? She had guessed that this could be a sensitive topic for him, but she wasn't sure that her accusation was totally accurate. But based on his immediate and horrified reaction, she had now confirmed that she was more correct than she had even hoped.

"I- I always keep my text feeds...you know that," he said, sounding a little less sure than was typical for him.

"Sometimes you delete them," she said raising her eyebrows mockingly.

He looked a little more irritated now as he replied. "But if they are case related, I do not delete them. I consider that evidence, and I don't delete evidence. If you recall, Irene Adler was involved in a case I solved. It was years ago, and she is now dead."

"So, she's dead, and the case was solved years ago...meaning you kept the messages for sentimental reasons?" She looked at him pointedly.

Sherlock began to wish he hadn't done this. He had no idea that Molly would be so good at coming up with a realistic subject for an argument. He certainly didn't think it would be anything so close to home. And he could tell from her facial expressions, which wouldn't be for show, that she was trying to get to him. And it was working. He figured the argument didn't need to go on for too long to be convincing, so he preferred to end it sooner rather than later.

"It was a long time ago, but it was still case related...darling, come kiss me, I haven't seen you in days." He advanced a couple steps. But Molly stepped back a few, and shook her head. Sherlock frowned, halting in his tracks.

"You can't kiss me right now, Sherlock...I'd like to see your mobile." She put out her hand.

Sherlock swallowed visibly. He looked around and then narrowed his eyes at her. He shook his head a little.

"Oh, come on, just let me see. If you show me the text feed and I can see that it's case related, then I'll feel much better." She continued to reach out expectantly.

"The texts were, as you will see, almost all from her. I didn't send her any messages except one." He slowly went into his phone and opened up the texts from Irene and then hesitantly handed it over to Molly. She silently began to read, and he could see her scrolling downward.

"Sherlock, these are not case related. They're all...flirty. It's all her asking you out to dinner, and complimenting you, and telling you she got you a gift...Oh my God! That was from Christmas at your flat wasn't it?!"

"It was a case related gift. She had to give me something for safe keeping," he replied evenly.

"But she's calling you sexy, and saying that your hat suits you! Sherlock, there was something going on here wasn't there?" she said a bit more heatedly.

"No! There was nothing...ok, yes, she flirted with me! But that was all! And now she's dead, end of story." Sherlock began pacing around the room, uncomfortable having this discussion with Molly.

"Speaking of her being dead, you identified her body...Her  _body_! You didn't even need to see her face. Care to explain that?"

"That, I can explain. The first time I met Miss Adler, she was...completely naked." Sherlock rolled his eyes at himself, realizing that really explained nothing.

"Really?" Molly said with eyes wide. "Why was that?"

"She was trying to, I don't know...shock me."

"Pretty shocking I'd say. And you only saw her that once. Naked, I mean."

"Yes! Only that once." He prayed that Molly was bringing things to a close.

She nodded and looked thoughtful. Then she looked back at him and said, "You must have been looking awfully close to identify her body then."

Sherlock threw his hands up for a second, wondering how far she was planning to take this. "I'm...observant, Molly! Consulting detective, remember?!"

"You know, I'd understand if you told me you had feelings for her," she said, walking closer to him and softening her tone a little. "I mean, she was gorgeous. Even with her face bashed in. I wouldn't blame you...I'd rather you were just honest, and then I could understand."

Sherlock looked down at her and saw that Molly was clearly jealous. She wasn't faking, she wasn't making anything up. She envied this woman she'd never met, and she didn't believe that she measured up. He could hear it in the way Molly had said Irene was gorgeous. His aggravation at her choice of argument melted away a bit. And he found himself wanting to assure her that she had nothing to be jealous about. This wasn't a woman she should wish to be like, or even look like. It didn't matter that Sherlock had thought Irene was beautiful. He'd still never wish for Molly to be anything different than what she was. Because he wanted her to be...Molly. He could have said that and ended the argument right then. But he didn't say it. He didn't want to say it because...he would mean it. And it felt too intimate.

"Fine...she was beautiful. I was attracted to her. And I enjoyed the attention she gave me while she was alive and in my company. Is that what you want to hear, Molly?" He held her gaze without wavering.

Molly looked up at him and tried not to think about the fact that somewhere along the way they had crossed a line in this discussion. She knew it though, and she couldn't undo it now. She reached out and placed his mobile back in his hand. Then she turned and walked around a few steps in her room.

Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket and fished out the earrings. He walked over and held them out to Molly.

"Here you go, Molly. I was glad to bring these by. I'll go now, if you don't mind. Say good evening to your mother and sister for me please."

Molly took the earrings from his hand and he walked past her out the door of her bedroom and then she heard the door to her flat open and close. She went over and sat on her bed, wondering what had just happened. A minute later, Becky poked her head in the door.

"Hey...you ok? I wasn't trying to snoop or anything, but that didn't sound good."

"Oh, I'm fine. I'll talk to him later. Sherlock doesn't like to talk about things like that. You know, feelings. So, I'm not surprised it was a sore subject. I should probably have just left it alone."

"I don't know, Molls, maybe he needed it. You can't have past relationships or feelings clouding your current relationship. You should know that first hand. Better to deal with it and get it sorted."

"Mmm, suppose I do know that." She thought of her joke of an engagement to Tom.

"Listen, if you want to go see him later to make up, that would be fine. Mum and I can just relax and watch a movie."

Molly considered this. She almost said no...

"Sure, thanks, Beck. I'll go see him after dinner. I'm sure I won't be gone long."


	10. Chapter 10

Molly climbed the stairs at 221B Baker Street. She took a cleansing breath as she stood in front of Sherlock's door. She wasn't really sure what she was doing there. Was she there to apologize? Was she there simply for the appearance to her family of apologizing? She couldn't tell. She wasn't sure if she was correct, but she believed that Sherlock had been genuinely bothered by the "fight" they had had. She had picked up on the fact that this subject, at the very least, wasn't what he had expected her to use. She had congratulated herself on a brilliant subject choice, but still, she didn't want to actually hurt Sherlock. She decided that she'd simply have to judge by his reaction to her being there.

She knocked a few times.

Sherlock answered the door and his brow furrowed in confusion a bit at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, well, I'm supposed to be coming over to...'make up' after our fight." She began to wonder if he was going to let her in.

But Sherlock did step aside, allowing her admittance. Molly walked into the dimly lit little flat with a fire blazing, and she thought to herself that this was the loveliest little dump of a flat she'd ever set foot in. If only she could enjoy herself instead of things being so uncomfortable...though that was usually her complaint when she'd been at this flat.

"Would you like a cup?" He held up the pot of tea that he had sitting by his chair.

"Mmm, yes thanks." Molly felt enough at ease now to take off her coat and sit down.

Sherlock gave her the little cup as she sat down across from him in what had been, and probably would always be, John's chair. She took a sip and saw that Sherlock sat in his own chair across from her, but seemed to wonder what to do in much the same way she did. She thanked God that he miraculously ended up speaking first.

"I underestimated you," he said quietly.

Molly shrugged. "People tend to do that with me."

"I should probably know better by now." He took another sip of his own tea. "I half expected you to argue about my choice in clothes or something like that."

"Well I couldn't argue about that." She laughed a little, before clearing her throat and hoping the redness in her cheeks didn't spread too much. "So...I'm sorry, I guess."

He looked at her suspiciously. "You guess? I'm confused now, Molly."

She sighed, feeling that he wasn't making this any easier. Though when did he ever make things easier?

"Look, I wasn't even sure you had texts from Irene on your phone still. I just guessed! I remembered that night at Christmas when you got the text from her and John said 'fifty seven'. Stuck out in my mind just a little...so I used that. It didn't really matter if there were ever texts or if you ever kept them, seeing as the fight was supposed to be fake. But I shouldn't have used that subject. I mean, the woman did die after all. And she clearly meant something to you. So I probably should have picked a more invented topic...so, yes. I am saying I'm sorry."

He eyed her from his chair with his hands steepled in front of his mouth. Finally he took a breath and spoke. "You shouldn't have to be sorry, Molly. It was a brilliant topic really. If it had been left up to me to choose a subject for us to argue over, you can be sure I'd aim for something you would easily play into as well...the words 'meat dagger' come to mind." He raised his eyebrow.

Molly snorted out a laugh and the she gave a little groan while covering her face. "God, I'm glad you didn't pick the fight then!" He was smiling when she looked back at him, and she felt more at ease.

"So...you and Irene were...together?" Molly saw a wall build up a bit again and Sherlock's expression went stony.

"Didn't you just finish apologizing for discussing this topic with me?" His tone had turned a little biting.

Moll nervously smoothed her hair around one side of her neck. "Well, yes...but I'm not accusing you now. I'm just asking. It's nothing I'd be mad about in reality. We're friends, and I was just curious. That's all."

Sherlock looked intently into the fire beside him and pressed his lips together before opening them to speak. "We were not...together. And that's the truth." He met her eyes when he said this.

"Why not?"

"The why nots are innumerable, Molly, believe me. Foremost of which was the fact that I simply didn't want to be in a relationship with her."

"But you felt something," she whispered, making him lock eyes with her. She smiled a little, trying to indicate that this was ok.

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his hands rested in front of his mouth again.

"I have long ago come to terms with...certain things. She was a beautiful woman. She enjoyed the chase. And it wasn't wholly unpleasant to be chased. She had a brilliant mind as well. I found that interesting. But there was something lacking that cannot be made up for easily. She was a very selfish woman. She may have flirted with me, but I don't think she truly cared. She may have wanted me, but I don't believe she wanted to help me or be there for me." Sherlock paused and connected his eyes to Molly's again. "I could never have trusted her."

"Oh...well, you have to be able to trust a person." Molly's voice cracked a little, Sherlock's voice from years ago echoing inside her head.  _"You've always counted and I've always trusted you."_

He only smiled in answer, and then turned his attention back to the fire. A moment of silence passed and then Sherlock looked up again.

"How long exactly does it usually take for a couple to make up after a fight?"

Molly's cheeks turned red, and she giggled a little. "Sometimes it can take all night."

Sherlock's eyes widened for a second and he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I'm just kidding...well, no, that can be true actually. But don't worry, I'm not staying at your flat much longer if that's what's worrying you."

"I wasn't...worried. You can stay as long as you like, Molly. Make yourself comfortable. I'm just going to check my emails for a while." He got up, moving himself over to the desk where his laptop was. He sat reading for the next ten minutes or so, and Molly picked up a chemistry book and began flipping through. Suddenly Sherlock spoke again.

"Oh for God's sake! That is most certainly not a case! What is the matter with people?"

"What is it?" Molly asked and she jumped up to look at the laptop screen. She began reading the email he had just opened. Molly gasped a little and then covered her mouth, trying to contain the laughter. "Well! She really likes you doesn't she?"

"Stupid woman," he muttered and deleted the email.

"How many of those do you get in a week?" Molly asked in all seriousness.

He hesitated a bit. "What makes you think I get those kinds of emails regularly?"

"Oh come on, Sherlock, that can't be the first woman who's thrown herself at you by email! This is you we're talking about!"

He turned around to look at Molly who was now sitting on the arm of his leather chair. The bridge of his nose wrinkled in questioning. "What in the world do you mean by that?"

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed. "You know. You're just...so...attractive." She knew she wouldn't be able to prevent the blush from spreading on her face.

He shrugged. "Only moderately." He faced the computer screed again.

"Moderately?"

"Yes. I've made a realistic estimation of my appearance. When compared to most other men of my age, I am moderately attractive."

"No...extremely."

"What?" Sherlock turned around again.

"I said extremely. You're not moderately attractive, Sherlock. You're extremely attractive. Let's be honest." She crossed her arms in front of her, appearing to be standing her ground on this particular point.

"That's ridiculous, Molly! You're just...biased."

"I am not! Well, maybe a little...but I'm still right. And now you're just fishing for compliments."

"Please! I don't do that, Molly! I don't need other people to compliment me to feel good about myself. I don't exactly have a self-esteem problem!" He turned back around again.

There was a silent hesitation, then he added quietly, "Oh and...thank you."

She smiled at him, even though he couldn't see. And she couldn't help reminiscing a little bit. Thinking back to a time so very long ago...

"Sherlock? Do you remember when we first met?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"That was awful wasn't it?" she asked with a little laugh.

"Well...no need to feel badly. You were nervous. It was your first week on the job. It's understandable."

"I dropped lungs. On the floor. On the floor, Sherlock."

Sherlock peered at her over his shoulder, both of them cracking smiles at the memory as Molly went on.

"I didn't even get my name out before I made a complete idiot of myself! I remember Greg introducing you, and I literally couldn't string words together and hold the container in my hands at the same time. It's a wonder you ever came to me for help with anything important after that first meeting!"

"I saw the um...potential."

"Oh you mean the potential to have your run of the lab and the morgue?"

"May...be."

"Charming!" But she couldn't help laughing. They did have such a ridiculous history between them when she looked back. And she said as much. "We've come a long way, Sherlock...and I'm glad we're friends now."

He didn't turn around, but he lifted his head from looking at the screen as he replied. "Yes... so am I, Molly."

She swallowed some of the words that she didn't want to say. Or maybe she did want to say them, but it just wasn't the right time. She wondered if there ever would be a right time. And on some level she also believed that they didn't need to be said aloud. He knew...he had to know.

"Well," she announced, getting up. "I think our argument should be just about settled by now, don't you think? I should get going."

He stood up as well as Molly put her coat on, getting ready to leave. "Ok, well, thanks for the tea. And for the...conversation. I know it's not your favorite thing. But it was nice."

Sherlock gave a small smile.

Molly then did something that she'd never done before with Sherlock. She'd never had the guts to do it before. It's just a simple friendly gesture. But somehow it had always been abundantly clear to her in the past that she wouldn't be allowed to even try it. Tonight, for some reason, she didn't really feel that way.

She stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, giving him a hug.

He was as she expected him to be at first. Clearly taken aback by this gesture. It felt a little like hugging the back of a chair. He was stiff and unyielding. His arms barely moved. But slowly, very slowly, they came up to rest lightly on her back. And she felt his torso relax a touch and begin to conform more to her own. And finally, she could say that she wasn't just hugging him, he was also hugging her.

She let go then of course. If she'd held on any longer, it would have been strange. When she pulled away and stepped back again, she found that he looked a little perplexed. He was probably frantically cataloguing all the new information that had just been suddenly thrust upon him without his consent...but he didn't look upset.

"Good night, Molly," he said in a low voice as he opened the door.

"Night, Sherlock." Molly smiled and left the flat.

* * *

Not five minutes after Molly had left the flat, Sherlock got a text from Lestrade. It told him that they had discovered an old hide out of Moriarty's network, and they were certain that this was the point of origin for the message heard around the country.

Sherlock was in a cab in under a minute and arrived at the location Lestrade had given him. He entered the building and was surprised to see his brother inside.

"Hello, Sherlock... shall I show you in?"

They had to go down a couple flights of stairs and then use an old service lift to get to the underground area that had been discovered. The room wasn't full of things, but there were some computers and electronic devices and tables and chairs. Lestrade came over to meet them.

"This has got to be the place. All evidence would suggest it. We tied this place to a Sebastian Moran. He was one of Moriarty's men."

"Yes, I know who he is...do you have him in custody?" Sherlock said, impatient for more and more information.

"No. This information and location was acquired through undercover work. We're watching Moran closely still and we hope that he'll lead us to Moriarty if he's still alive. If Moriarty isn't alive, it'll either become clear that Moran is behind this, or he's working for someone else. Our people will take all the gear in this room and-"

"That's not necessary detective inspector," Mycroft interrupted. "I have my people waiting to take everything to analyze. You've been awfully helpful, but we will be taking it from here."

"Mycroft, what are you talking about? You haven't told me any of this," Sherlock questioned.

"We've been working on this for weeks and have made progress! You're just going to rip it all out from under us now? What if this ruins all the undercover work?!" Lestrade protested.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lestrade, but this is in the hands of the British government now. It's a matter of national security. It's not the job for some local officers. I'll be keeping you informed of course, Sherlock." Mycroft turned to leave the room, but first gestured to someone who had come with him. Some people came in immediately and began packing up all the evidence that Lestrade's team had been busily cataloguing.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade bellowed, "Can you do something about this?!"

"You know very well that my brother doesn't do things for me, Lestrade! I'll keep you informed though." Sherlock hurried to follow Mycroft as he left the building.

Sherlock caught up with Mycroft and walked with him as he walked out to his car.

"Mycroft, I think you know that Lestrade and his people are perfectly competent to investigate this message. Why are you suddenly taking over?"

"Simple, dear brother. Because the investigation is finally picking up speed. It has to be monitored closely by people who have the resources to actually do something about it. This needs to be in my hands, Sherlock, believe me. And as I said, I will be keeping you well informed." He opened the car door as he driver started the engine.

"I will be coming after you, Mycroft, if you don't!" he warned in frustration.

"You're home again, Sherlock. You can keep busy, do what you like. That's what really matters isn't it? Oh and say hello to Molly Hooper for me." His brother smiled, got in the car, and it drove away.

Sherlock wasn't sure why, but he felt like the answers to Moriarty's message were getting farther and farther away. He walked away, a little aimlessly and went to hail a cab. He finally got one and directed the driver to Baker Street.

Sherlock rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes, trying to relax. He wanted to be encouraged by this latest development, but it was difficult to be encouraged when he was further removed than he had been before. He actually trusted Lestrade more than his brother to keep him informed. That had him worried.

And then there was Molly. Somewhere in all this was still Molly. It was a stupid thing to be thinking about at a time like this, but that's where his mind drifted to. His mind didn't tend to drift typically, but it was drifting tonight. It felt unusual to have spent time with Molly outside the hospital at all. But especially in this context. Today was strange, no doubt. He hadn't opened up to anyone about Irene like that before. It was a strange topic to discuss with Molly, of all people. But somehow it was a helpful reminder. Describing to Molly Hooper why being with Irene Adler wouldn't have worked, felt a little like explaining to a dentist why you didn't want a carpenter to extract your tooth. Molly herself was, in a way, a reminder of why he could never have been with Irene. They were polar opposites. And Molly was the very embodiment of the vital things that Irene lacked.

This of course frightened him. Irene had frightened him in a way as well. But it wasn't the same. There was no permanence in it. He knew it would never go anywhere...even if he had agreed to have dinner with her. With Molly there was the fear of reality. The knowledge that this was a realistic possibility. Because he could almost see it…almost imagine what it would be like with Molly.

That foreign feeling of Molly wrapping her slight arms around his neck this evening had completely thrown him. He almost never hugged anyone in his adult life, and was rarely given hugs as well. And of course he'd never hugged Molly. Once he got over the initial shock of the physical contact, he felt so...comfortable. It was like slipping into his pajamas and dressing gown and sitting in his chair by the fire. And he had actually felt a little pang of loss as it ended. He had just wrapped his own arms around her back and was beginning to enjoy the strange comfort of this small woman holding onto him...then she let go and stepped back. Sherlock felt like he'd gotten a taste of something he's wished he hadn't. Because now he wanted more.

Sherlock arrived home that night to his silent flat on Baker Street. He felt frustrated, and tried to make himself get some sleep, wanting to forget about the Moriarty case and everything else as well. Sleep eluded him though and there was something bothering him that he couldn't quite define. But finally, after much tossing and turning, he narrowed it down.

The surprising truth was that the infuriating blankets wrapped around his body were a poor substitute for the arms that had been in their place only hours before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 11 & 12 will be up tomorrow! Hope people are liking this one. Please let me know what you think! ;)


	11. Chapter 11

_**Ok, this is long... and super fluffy. If anyone cares whether I update shorter chapters more often or longer chapters less often, please let me know. I wasn't planning one way or another this time. This just sort of... happened. :)** _

* * *

Sherlock had met Lestrade the next day to examine the body of a man who was found dead in a dumpster. And as it turned out, it was a man in Sherlock's homeless network. Molly had done the post-mortem, of course, and handed Sherlock a bag of a few items.

"He didn't have much on him. But we haven't been able to contact any family. Want to hold on to this stuff for now?"

"May as well. I was the one who gave him this mobile anyway." He examined the phone through the bag.

"I think it was a stroke, so I don't think there's any need to search for a suspect. Looks like he may have even died in his sleep. Probably peaceful," She said sweetly, almost always trying to find something positive in the business of death.

"Right, well that's done...I'll have to find another willing subject for that part of town then."

"Don't get all sentimental now, Sherlock," Lestrade said sarcastically.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it...fancy a coffee, Molly?" He turned his attention quickly from Lestrade.

"Oh, um, I don't know. I do have another I'm supposed to get done before lunch time."

"I'm going to go ok, Sherlock? I'll be in touch. Let me know if anything comes up with Moriarty!" Lestrade made his exit.

"Bye, Greg!" Molly made the effort to say goodbye, while Sherlock didn't.

"We could get coffee after you're done. I can wait...in fact, I could just stay and observe."

Molly peered up at him sideways. "Observe Sarah Johnson's post-mortem? But that's not official police business, Sherlock. Why would I let you do that?"

She saw him step over closer next to her and noticed that he dropped his voice lower and softened the words as he spoke. "Molly...I'd really like to watch you working. I promise I won't touch anything."

Oh give me the strength, Molly thought to herself. "Sherlock, are you flirting with me to get your way again?"

She had hoped the blatant accusation would shock him into retreat, but unfortunately he took another step closer. Then he slowly spoke again as he looked down at her. "Is. It. Working?"

Molly had to look away for a moment pressing her lips together till they hurt a little in an effort to gather her words. But she didn't gather them terribly well.

"Um, no..."

"Mmm, yes it is," he stated confidently.

"Don't you have a case or something?" She purposely retreated to a different location of the room to create some distance and also get some tools.

"Nothing at this very moment. I could go home and sift through the rubbish cases in my emails till I found something to take up a couple hours of the day...but I'd rather watch you slice up this Sarah Johnson!"

Molly was thankful when the door opened then, a doctor from upstairs walked in.

"Oh, Molly, hi. I'm glad I caught you. I was just checking on Mrs. Johnson's report. Thought I'd come down myself."

The doctor who was new to Saint Bart's came in and Molly noticed that Sherlocks eyes became like lasers, scanning the man with the clear intent to find something offending.

"Hi, Mark. I was just about to get it done. I'll be sending the report up shortly. Is that alright?"

"Oh sure! I just thought I'd say hello and see if you were done already," he said eagerly and walked over a little closer. Only then did he notice Sherlock standing there nearby.

"Oh, sorry!" Molly said as she gestured to Sherlock. "Mark, this is Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective. And Sherlock, this is Dr. Mark Whitman. He's new here."

Sherlock walked over and stood next to Molly while extending his hand to the man.

"Sherlock Holmes, yes I've heard the name. Good to meet you."

"Mmm, good to meet you as well." Sherlock paused for a moment after releasing the man's hand. Then he opened his mouth just as the Dr. seemed about to speak. "Molly and I are dating, by the way."

Molly nearly broke her neck whipping it around to gape at Sherlock, and the Dr. seemed to stop in his tracks as well. He looked back and forth between the two of them for a second before finally replying.

"Ah. Well that's...nice. Um, ok well, I'll probably just head back upstairs. You can just send the report up whenever you get the chance. No rush, it's fine...oh, uh, good to meet you, Mr. Holmes!" he said a bit over his shoulder on his way out. Sherlock raised his hand in a small wave.

"Good God, what was that, Sherlock?" she demanded, turning to face him then.

"Don't tell me you weren't fully aware of the fact that he was moments from asking for your number. He came all the way downstairs for absolutely no reason but to see you. He could have called down, he could have sent someone, he could have just waited patiently. But no, he just wanted to say hello!" Sherlock mimicked the man's cheery voice from before.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yes there is! You can't be seen with another man while your family is here. What impression would that give?"

"Obviously I wouldn't have gone out with him while they were still here...but he could have kept my number. Now he'll probably never ask again." Molly sounded a little dejected.

"Regardless of our facade of a relationship at present, you shouldn't date just any man who pops up and asks for your number! You have a horrible track record, Molly."

She glared at him. "Sherlock! At least my track record is  _real_! You can't give me any pointers, you don't have the credentials." She began violently grabbing the rest of the things that she needed and arranging them on her tray.

"Oh you know that's not a valid argument. Regardless of my lack of personal experience, only by choice may I add, I've known more about each and every one of your boyfriends after two minutes with them than you ever did! I'd say my advice should hold some weight!"

Molly rolled her eyes and began wheeling Mrs. Johnson out.

"Besides...Dr. Whitman wasn't your type." He raised an accusing eyebrow.

Molly let a tool in her hand meet the tray again with a crash as she looked up at Sherlock. "Oh really? And what is my type, Sherlock? Since you're the expert." She was interested to see if he really knew the answer to this question, or if he really wanted to say it out loud.

"Hmm...gay psychopathic criminal masterminds perhaps?" He grinned evilly.

"Well, your previous flirting has all been for naught, Sherlock. You certainly aren't staying now. I won't be cutting into Mrs. Johnson till you leave this room." She stood waiting with tool in hand.

"Were you going to let me stay before?" he asked sounding a little mischievous.

"I guess you'll never know will you!"

"So...that's a yes."

"I didn't-" she began.

"Oh not to worry, Molly, there will be plenty of other times. I'll take my leave as you wish. And I'll be texting you today as well about some details for Sunday night." He was halfway out the door.

"Wait, what's Sunday night?" she called.

"Oh, I'm taking you and your mother and sister to Kensington Gardens. There's going to be live classical music playing...you're welcome." With that, he was gone.

Molly shook her head forcefully. She honestly couldn't decide, most of the time, whether she'd like to attack him with kisses or punches.

* * *

"John. How's the non-stress test going?"

"Oh it's fine. It's boring. Mary's just hooked up to things and there's not much to do but wait. Nice you happen to be here today...visiting your girlfriend, where you?"

"Very funny...and yes, I was."

"How's that going?" John asked as they took a seat in the hospital cafeteria. "Have you been forced to make actual physical contact? And if so, have you managed to avoid imploding?"

Sherlock hesitated a little. He certainly didn't want to detail to John how he had been feeling about the affection that he and Molly had shared thus far. He felt much too positive about it for his own liking and he knew that John would take that and run with it.

"It's fine. Everything's fine. I did manage to have some physical contact with Jeanine, I'm not sure why you feel that would be impossible to accomplish with Molly."

John shrugged. "I don't know. You never seemed interested in her first of all. And sometimes that's just weird even when people are attracted to each other. You know, when two people are friends for a long time. And then suddenly you're more than that. It can be a strange transition. You can feel like you're kissing your sister or something!"

"I assure you, it did not feel like I was kissing a relative when I kissed Molly."

John craned his neck over a little toward Sherlock in some surprise. "So you are actually kissing her? And you're enjoying it?"

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh. "I didn't say I was enjoying it, John. I said it didn't feel strange...what does it matter?! We aren't actually a couple!"

"Oh sure, it doesn't matter at all…not. At. All. Not to you at least." John took a casual sip of his coffee.

"You think it matters to Molly?" he asked suspiciously.

"How could it not matter to Molly? She's a woman and you're kissing her. Therefore, it matters. Besides the fact that she's been in love with you for years."

Sherlock looked around contemplatively. "Perhaps she's not in love with me anymore."

"Not likely."

"Stop being so negative."

John gaped at Sherlock, then laughed. "Only you, Sherlock, would call it being negative to say that someone is still in love with you! I've got to go check on Mary now. I'll be talking to you soon. Try not to do too much damage."

"I'm taking Molly and her mother and sister to the park for live music the night after tomorrow. You and Mary care to meet us there?"

"Maybe. I'll check with her. And it'll depend on how she's feeling that night too. She's getting awfully tired lately. Carrying around a lot of extra weight...but don't tell her I said that...I'll let you know if we decide to come though."

John left to go back to Mary, and Sherlock left the hospital to go home and do his best to keep himself busy with cases. He had to admit that he wished for Sunday to come quickly. He enjoyed listening to quality music as much as he enjoyed playing it. And he certainly didn't mind being with Molly. Molly's family didn't seem too bad either. It wasn't a punishment to be with them. He texted Molly as he rode the cab home.

MEET ME AT THE PARK ENTRANCE AT 7PM. THE MUSIC STARTS AT 7:30. BRING A BLANKET FOR SITTING...JOHN AND MARY MAY BE JOINING US ALSO. -SH

THAT SOUNDS LOVELY. I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. I TOLD MY MUM AND SISTER AND THEY'RE EXCITED...THANK YOU. -MH

HAPPY TO DO IT...I GET TO BE WITH YOU. -SH

Sherlock was busy with a few small cases the next couple days and also tried to contact his brother for updates when possible. Mycroft was being terrible about communicating though. He barely answered Sherlock's texts, and when he did he was vague and brief. It was frustrating Sherlock, and he hoped the concert that night would be a welcome distraction.

* * *

He only had to wait a few minutes at the Kensington Garden's entrance before Molly showed up with Becky and Mrs. Hooper. Molly squeaked a little when Sherlock immediately pulled her firmly in with one arm and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

Molly knew she was growing too accustomed to this version of Sherlock. She wondered what she would do when suddenly she was thrown back into the real world where Sherlock Holmes barely touched her. She tried not to think about that, believing that she should at least try to make the best of things as they were right then. But it certainly worried her at a moment like that, when he was so unlike himself. So tender. Her unrealistic hope was that having this experience would be like listening to a song that was stuck in your head. Maybe this would be enough to get it out of her system.

Molly grasped his hand as they began walking toward where the music would be playing, and he squeezed back without looking down at her as they walked. They spread out blankets and took a seat. There were tons of people, so they could barely even see the stage that was set up. But there were speakers set up to carry the music.

"John just sent me a text," Sherlock announced, looking at his phone. "Looks like they're on their way."

"Oh good!" Mrs. Hooper said happily. "We've heard of them often. It'll be lovely to put faces to names!"

Molly looked at Sherlock and thought how unreal this was. She was sitting on a blanket in Kensington Gardens with him. She'd never even seen Sherlock sitting on a blanket outside. They were here to listen to music. And he was holding her hand right now. This was like some sort of an alternate dimension. The music started just about then, adding a soundtrack to what felt like a dream to Molly.

As if this wasn't enough he turned and looked at her, brushing some hair from her face, and said softly, "I missed you today."

Molly blushed and had to look away. With his face so close to hers it was actually too intense to look into his eyes like that. "Did you? Well I- I missed you too. I always miss you when I don't see you."

The side of Sherlock's mouth curled up a little. "Good," he whispered, and kissed her temple, making her eyes flutter closed for a second.

They were all quiet for a while as they sat listening. Molly could tell that Sherlock was genuinely enjoying this, and that made her happy. She had no desire for him to do ridiculous things that he hated, just for the sake of appearances. A few minutes later, John and Mary walked over to where they were sitting.

Introductions were made and John threw down their own blanket to sit on. Mary lowered herself with a grunt and made a face of suffering at Molly.

"How are you, Mary? Not long yet," she said in a comforting tone and touched her hand on the blanket.

"Dear God I hope not. I'm ready to explode! I can't wait to just be able to hold her!"

"It's so exciting when they can finally be on you instead of in you all the time," Mrs. Hooper chimed in. "Hope you've got everything ready and you can just relax and wait."

"We have," John answered. "Only just finished getting the flat ready. Certainly changes the whole place!"

"Babies do that. Changes your whole life! What do you think about children, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hooper directed her attention to him.

Sherlock actually hadn't planned for convincing answers to questions like that. He was geared up to play the part of the adoring boyfriend, but the subject of children threw him a bit.

"Um, well, they're small and usually messy. And they can be clever on occasion. I've observed some demonstrating skills of deduction at a much higher level than most adults."

"I believe she means what do you think about having children one day," Molly whispered.

Everyone smiled a little at the interchange. Though John looked more like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sherlock looked thoughtful, and then looked at Molly as he answered again. "Oh. Well in that case, I think I look forward to the day when it's time to...think about it." Molly grabbed his hand instinctively, and then he slowly leaned over and caught her lips in his for a moment. He examined her face intently as he pulled away.

"Oh...wow," John said, breaking the silence. This made everyone look at him, and he realized he had actually said that aloud instead of in his head. "Oh, sorry. It's just the music. It's really good, just wow...mind boggling." He cleared his throat while trying to rein in his facial expression.

They all sat quietly for a while listening to the music. Molly leaned back against Sherlock's chest comfortably.

Mary spoke up some time later. "Ugh, I've got to find the loo, you'll have to excuse me."

"Oh I'll go with you, Mary," Molly volunteered. She got up and helped Mary hoist herself up to her feet. The two women walked off, and Sherlock was surprised when Molly's sister Becky moved over to sit next to him.

"Hi. I'm not trying to ambush you or anything, but I just thought we could talk. Probably won't get many more opportunities."

"What did you want to talk about?" Sherlock was becoming a little suspicious.

"Well, I know my sister. And I'm sure she's being...reserved about telling you how she feels."

"I am aware she cares for me, Becky."

"Right, but that's the thing. It's so much deeper than that. I just think you should understand what this really is...I think you should know that she's sort of past the point of no return with you."

His brow furrowed a little. "Past the point- what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, you know, that's how much she loves you. I think there's something that happens with people when you love someone so long and so hard. Eventually, you get to the point that it doesn't matter what happens, you're going to love them forever. At least on some level. You could have a separation from death, or the relationship doesn't work out, or maybe the relationship never even happens at all. But it doesn't matter. It's like it's too late. The damage is done, and there's nothing that will stop you loving that person. Maybe for the rest of your life. I just think...I think you should know that Molly is going to love you forever. I know that you have a tough time with people sometimes. So I thought maybe this is something you didn't realize. Judging from your expression, I think I may have been right."

Sherlock swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. He nodded slowly. "I appreciate you telling me this, Becky. I'm not sure you're completely right, but it's still...nice to hear."

"I'm right, Sherlock. Her love for you has already survived many other past relationships on her part, so many times you treated her unfeelingly, your 'suicide' and absence for a whole two years, and her recent engagement! Is there much else left that could shake her feelings for you? I don't think so. If she's still in love with you now, then I don't ever expect that to change."

Sherlock looked past Becky and caught John's eye for a moment. He had clearly been eavesdropping, and Sherlock caught him raising an eyebrow in obvious agreement of what Becky was saying. Almost as if to say, I told you so.

"Well, Molly's lucky to have a sister like you. You obviously care about her and you want her to be happy. I'd like to assure you that I also want nothing more than for Molly to be happy. If you believe nothing else, believe that."

"Sherlock, I didn't say I didn't believe-"

"You didn't have to," he whispered, and gave her a small smile. She smiled back, and a sort of understanding passed between them.

"Ok, well, good. I'm glad we could have a chat...I'll just move back now. Wouldn't want Molly to think I'm moving in on her territory!" She gave Sherlock a playful shove as she got up.

John leaned over toward Sherlock and said under his breath, "You are in deep, my friend. These women might just kill you if they find out you've broken Molly's heart later. You really want to take that risk?"

"I can't exactly avoid it now can I?" Sherlock hissed.

"Sure you can...there is one way."

Sherlock frowned at John. "What's that?"

"Don't end it," he said with a dead straight face.

"Wha- John, don't be stupid," he scoffed.

"How about you try not being stupid, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at him and the two men stared each other down for a moment. Then John looked up and said more loudly, "Oh look! The ladies are back. Here, Mary, let me help you."

Sherlock was lost in thought, considering what Molly's sister had just said to him and the insane suggestion John had just given him. So when Molly sat back down next to him, he barely noticed.

"Hey," she said quietly as she slid her hand over the back of his and let her fingers fall between his own.

"Oh. Hello...I was just thinking."

"It's ok, I know what I signed up for. That's you, always thinking," she said with a sweet smile, before kissing his cheek and then turning her attention back toward the stage.

He watched her as she quietly listened to the sound of the music floating in the air. She was perfectly happy, perfectly comfortable. She knew him so well. He was amazed sometimes at how well she knew him, even at times when he hadn't wanted her to…and she loved him.

Sherlock would have been lying if he said he had no clue that Molly Hooper had been in love with him. But the way that Molly's sister had described it had been a bit of a revelation. Half of him was a little horrified at the prospect of a woman being forever in love with him no matter what happened or what he did. But the other half of him was...humbled. That was the only word he could think of to describe the effect it had on him. He had no problem with feelings of self-worth. He readily described himself as brilliant to anyone who would listen. And there weren't a lot of things he believed he didn't deserve. But still, he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that this sweet, kind, normal woman could have fallen so deeply in love with him. He couldn't understand what he had ever done to make that happen. It was much the same when he thought about how a good man like John Watson could be happy to call him his best friend. It was almost uncomfortably overwhelming.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do at that moment, but he wrapped his arm around Molly's waist and pulled her in against him, almost unconsciously. She looked up at him and saw that he was still a bit lost in thought. He looked almost sad. Molly forgot about the music for a moment. She reached a hand up and touched his face briefly, which caused him to quickly suck in a breath as he looked back at her.

"Is everything ok?" Molly whispered, a little concerned that something had happened while she had gone with Mary to the bathrooms.

"Yes, I'm fine..." But then his eyes began focusing in on her lips. He leaned down suddenly and pressed his mouth against hers. Not just for a second, but lingeringly, and more passionately than he had in the past. Molly automatically grabbed the back of his neck twisting her fingers into the dark waves of hair, and beginning to forget where they were. She let out a little involuntary sigh when he finally pulled away.

"Um, Sherlock..." she began slowly. "I don't think anyone is paying attention to us right now."

Molly was right. None of the others in their company were looking even remotely at them or what they were doing. They clearly weren't even listening. Sherlock kept his eyes focused back toward the stage when he answered.

"Oh. Really?" He sounded a bit breathless. "My mistake. I suppose I should have checked first."

But what Sherlock was actually thinking to himself, as he tried to slow his pulse rate by sheer force of will, was that he didn't give a toss whether anyone had been paying attention to that kiss or not...because it was fantastic.


	12. Chapter 12

By the following day, Sherlock had spent many hours at war with himself. And he felt like nobody was winning. He had gone on a terribly unpleasant whirlwind of emotions since the night before when he had rather spontaneously kissed Molly. It hadn't begun unpleasantly though. It started with a sort of high during and right after the kiss. Heartbeat pounding in his chest, temperature rising suddenly, respiration rate elevated, and a ridiculous feeling of euphoria. He had easily compared it to the rush of an actual high while using drugs. But as it began to fade, he became confused. And he started to analyze things. Why had he kissed Molly in the first place? It hadn't been for appearances, he was aware. There clearly had been nobody paying them attention at that moment. So why?

He retraced his mental steps before he had leaned in to kiss her. He had been thinking about...how much she loved him. How unconditionally she loved him. He had been thinking about how little he deserved that sort of devotion. Then she asked him if he was ok, and touched his face. It was clearly some sort of emotional domino effect, culminating in his kissing her. He had to conclude, logically, that he'd kissed her because...he had wanted to.

Once he'd reached this conclusion, he had become highly agitated. How could that happen? he wondered. One moment you're thinking about someone else's feelings, and suddenly your own feelings take over and cause you to do something completely unplanned.  _Feelings, feelings, feelings_! They were going to drive him absolutely mad! He knew that he had strong feelings for other people in his life as well. Of course he was devoted to John and Mary and Mrs. Hudson, and some others. But his care for them had never made him suddenly want to grab them and kiss them! Why did he lose control in this instance?

Sexual attraction. This was the absolute only answer when seeing things from a logical perspective. He had felt it before, of course. But he couldn't remember the last time he recklessly acted on it. And this wasn't just anyone. This was Molly Hooper! Did he really see her that way? He hadn't believed so, but he was being forced to admit that he may have been wrong. It suddenly made sense to him that he had so enjoyed that hug she'd given him days before. How he had later craved that feeling of her arms wrapped tightly around him, and the slight weight of her against him...

He was struck with the realization that this had now become a very dangerous game he was playing at. He was pretending to do things, and pretending to feel things, and pretending to enjoy them. But by doing that, what if he was also creating real desires that wouldn't have otherwise existed, and perhaps wouldn't go away? He couldn't let that happen. The implications swirled around in his head like a cyclone of destruction. He imagined how horrible it would be if he continued to see Molly in this way. He couldn't very well march into Bart's, examine a murder victim, and then happen to snog Molly while he was at it. Sure, she would probably let him. But the function of his mind would be severely compromised. While he was with her, and possibly even when he wasn't. And then there would surely arise expectations on Molly's side that hadn't previously existed. She may feel they should be in a proper relationship. That could lead to other life changing situations.

And all for what? he asked himself. All for a moment's pleasure at the touch of her lips, or the warmth of her body. When compared to the way his life would be turned upside down, the choice was hardly a choice at all. He knew he had to prevent himself getting swept up again like he had last night. Her family was only here for five more days. Not long at all. He figured that would probably amount to being in their presence only once or twice more. And it would be possible to avoid any physical affection in that short period of time. Surely he had already adequately demonstrated enough of that to her family. No more was needed. Yes, that was the perfect plan. And soon this would all be over. Life back to the status quo.

Sherlock had taken a case around noon and had called John to come over and help him. He sat and listened to the story this woman told of being robbed by the remodeling crew that had been at her home. He sighed inwardly. Not the remodeling crew. Her adult son, who clearly still lived at home, had a drug habit. He was taking things from his own home to sell for drug money. And here he thought he had picked a case with some promise. A case that would get him out of the flat for at least a couple hours. Sherlock proceeded to enumerate to the woman, in no uncertain terms, where her actual problem lay.

"B-but, that's not possible. How do you know my son lives at home?" she stammered.

"You do know who I am, do you not? Sherlock Holmes, Consulting detective, tend to be rather observant, always right. Go home and confront your son. There's nothing I can help you with. I'm a detective, not a counselor."

The woman said nothing more, and left the flat with her tail between her legs. John tried to politely hold the door or her and wish her a good day, though he knew it was little consolation.

"Sherlock, I don't think I need to say that was uncalled for."

"No, John, you don't. So don't say it." He sat back down to open his laptop. "I've got to find another case!"

As he began weeding through his emails, he got a text.

HI SHERLOCK. WE ARE ABOUT TO GET SOME LUNCH RIGHT NEARBY BAKER STREET. WANT TO JOIN US? :) -MH

Oh this was not the time, he groaned inwardly. That was exactly what he did not need right now.

WORKING -SH

OH. WELL MY MUM WANTS TO SEE IF WE COULD STOP BY AND SAY HELLO SINCE WE'RE SO CLOSE BY. WE WONT STAY LONG. -MH

Sherlock groaned out loud this time. "Molly wants to stop by with her mother and sister!"

"Oh I see, honeymoon's over then is it? That was fast. Things seemed to be going awfully well last night."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he replied to Molly.

FINE. AS LONG AS IT'S BRIEF. -SH

SEE YOU SOON! -MH

"What's going on, Sherlock?" John pressed as he observed Sherlock slap his phone back on the table.

"Nothing," he hissed.

"You just seem...on edge. You know, more than usual. Especially compared to last night."

"Why exactly do you keep mentioning last night, John? You do remember that I'm not actually dating Molly? The Sherlock you saw last night was a farce! Therefore there's nothing relevant about last night! It's not worth mentioning!"

"Wow. Hmm," John said as he sat in his chair crossed his arms over his chest.

"What?!"

"Oh, nothing really. It's just a theory. I haven't proven it yet, so I'm sure it's not worth mentioning. Do carry on with your angry reading of emails!" John said with a smug smile.

A few minutes later he heard Molly knock at his door. Sherlock had narrowed down to a couple mildly interesting cases. He planned to get right to that after he got rid of Molly and her family. He stayed where he was and let John go open the door to let the women in.

"Hi, ladies. Nice to see you again. Hi, Molly." John gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Sherlock looked up briefly and half smiled in their direction.

"So this is the famous 221B Baker Street!" Mrs. Hooper said, looking around her. "Molly, you haven't done much to improve the place yet, have you?" They all laughed.

"I'm sure Molly wouldn't be planning on doing anything of the sort," Sherlock muttered from behind the laptop.

Molly glanced at her mother and sister briefly, clearly indicating that he wasn't in the best mood. She could tell something was up. He had been playing at being the affectionate boyfriend for a while now, and this seemed a sharp contrast. She wondered if something had changed, or if he was just in a mood due to work. Either way, she didn't want to cause any tension.

"Sherlock, we just wanted to say hi, but I can see you're busy. We can just go have lunch and maybe I'll talk to you later."

"That would be fine, yes," he answered flatly. He got up and stood a little closer. It wasn't warm body language though. He seemed to be getting up as if to respectfully see them out the door that they had only come through moments before.

Mrs. Hooper and Becky exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"Thanks for letting us see the place, Sherlock," Becky said gently.

"Not a problem."

"I'll be at Bart's till late tonight. Shall I call you?" Molly gave him a sort of questioning look. She was also trying to ask if something was wrong.

"You don't have to. But you can if you want," he replied, giving her no answer to the real question.

Molly nodded. Then she began to come closer...

Alarms went off in Sherlock's brain and all he could think was  _OhNo OhNo OhNo OhNo._  He could not allow her to kiss him right then! It was exactly what he had planned to avoid, and now how was he supposed to do that?

She stopped in front of him and placed her palms on his chest, causing the warmth from her hands to soak through the thin fabric of his shirt. (More alarms blaring in his head) She raised herself up on tiptoe clearly planning to kiss him. It occurred to him in that moment that she hadn't made the move to kiss him before this. She had been leaving that to him. It made his new plan of action more difficult.

In one slightly panicked move he took her wrists in his hands, removing her hands from his chest, and moved his face to the side causing her lips to fall barely on his cheek. Then he released her hands and looked at her as her face moved away again.

Something passed over her eyes. It was...hurt. It was brief, but he saw it. And he felt a stab in his gut. For a moment he regretted that he'd brushed her off. She hadn't done anything he hadn't been doing for the past week. She didn't have any reason to believe it would be badly received. It was all part of the game after all. He had just changed the rules without consulting her. And he knew that was unfair. But then he reminded himself that it was necessary. And in the long run, it was better for the both of them.

It was such a fleeting moment that passed between them, that nobody else in the room really took much note. So there wasn't much damage done in that way.

"Well...I'll um, talk to you later. Sherlock." Molly smiled slightly, and then turned to go.

"Right. Have a good day," he said quietly. And then they all left.

"Sherlock, what was that?" John questioned a moment after the door had closed.

"What? I'm working. Molly had told me to be myself when we started this. Well this is me, working!"

"Hmm."

"John, if you plan to continue humming throughout the day, do tell me now!" he growled.

John raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. Ok. Let's work then."

And they did. Sherlock picked a couple cases and they kept busy till about six that evening, at which time John announced that he should get home to Mary. Sherlock had some tea and biscuits that Mrs. Hudson brought him up, and he tried to do some reading. Though he felt awfully distracted and also tired from little sleep the night before.

Sherlock ended up drifting off to sleep at some point and woke later when he heard his mobile ringing on the table next to him. He sat up and picked up the call while he noticed that it was just after midnight.

"Yes hello?" He cleared his throat while running a hand through his hair, then over his eyes.

"Hello, Sherlock? It's Mrs. Hooper."

Immediate realization hit him that something wasn't right.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Hooper?"

"It's Molly. She was mugged at the train station on her way home after work. She was hurt. The man hit her in the face and he cut her arm with a knife."

Sherlock was silent on his end.

"Sherlock? Are you still there?"

"Where are you? Are you at Bart's?" he finally asked.

"Yes. We're here with her. She's just getting a few stitched in her arm right now."

"Please put Molly on the phone, Mrs. Hooper."

"Oh. Ok, hold on..."

Sherlock was pacing around his flat by now. He put the phone on speaker for a moment, then took his coat and scarf off the hook, putting them on.

"Sherlock?"

He grabbed the phone again at the sound of her small voice, pressing it to his ear. "Molly? Are you ok?"

"Um, I will be I'm sure. I'm just a bit shaken right now."

He hardly needed her to say it, since he could hear the tremor in her voice.

"I'm going to ask you some questions right now, Molly. I need for you to answer me clearly and quickly. Where did it happen? What did the man look and sound like? And what did he take?"

"I already talked to Greg about all of that, Sherlock."

"I didn't ask you if you'd talked to Lestrade. I asked you to tell me. Tell  _me_ , Molly." He was outside by now, looking for a cab to flag down.

"Ok...It was at the station near Bart's. He was about John's height and build. Had a deep voice, but not as deep as yours. He had a mask on, so I couldn't see his face. But his hair was light from what I could see. He wore jeans and a leather jacket, and there were zippers on the sleeves. And he had work boots on. He took my hand bag and my work tote. Why are you asking me this, Sherlock?"

"You know why. Take me to Blackfriars station," he said to a cab driver.

"Sherlock, he's not still going to be there! Greg is taking care of it, stop this! This is stupid!"

"Don't insult me by telling me that Lestrade is taking care of it! And I refuse to waste time arguing with you on the phone when I need to be contacting my homeless network and finding this man."

Molly lowered her voice. "Nobody can hear you, Sherlock...you don't need to pretend anything."

He paused, feeling a sickening pang of guilt. "Is that what you think, Molly? You still think I need to pretend...to care about you?"

She said nothing.

"How long will you be at Bart's, Molly?"

"Not much longer. I'll be all set to go home once I'm done getting stitched."

"Right. I'll be to your flat within the next two hours."

"Sherlock, you don't have to-"

But he had already hung up.

Sherlock began furiously sending off a text to about fifty of his homeless network. Then he dialed John.

"God, Sherlock, it's past midnight. What's wrong?" John asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm going to need you to meet me somewhere. I'll text you as soon as I know. But head in the direction of St. Bart's."

"What are you talking about, Sherlock?! It's the middle of the night! I can't leave Mary!" he said in a frustrated whisper.

"It's only for an hour or so. I need you, John, it's important. Someone hurt Molly."

"What?! Is she ok?"

"She's ok. But we need to find the man and turn him over to Lestrade. They certainly wont find him as quickly as I will. Anyway, I need you there for protection."

Sherlock could hear that John had gotten up now and was moving about. "Oh. Ok. Never heard you worry about that before. He's that dangerous eh?"

"Oh no, John, you wont be protecting me. You'll be protecting him," Sherlock growled with his fist clenched tight. "So do try to make sure I don't kill the man."

* * *

Molly was half asleep on her couch when she heard a soft knock at her door. She jumped up and saw that it was one forty five, then confirmed it was Sherlock as she looked through the peep hole. She opened the door and he came right in, immediately noticing he had a small cut on his jaw line.

"Oh my God! What happened?!" she whispered, as it seemed she was the only one still up.

Sherlock took one look at Molly and the anger he'd felt earlier came flooding back. Her cheek was bruised and cut. And he saw where the bandage on her upper arm was from the cut and subsequent stitches. It made him want to turn around, head back to the police station, and do the things he'd restrained himself from doing to that man earlier.

He sat down next to her on the couch. "He's in police custody. He confessed. Not that it mattered what he said, seeing as I found your things in his possession." Sherlock produced the bag with the remains of her belongings. "I didn't get it all. You'll still want to cancel cards and things like that. And any cash in your wallet was gone already. But there's some things untouched."

She took the bag and placed it on the floor next to her, not bothering to examine it. She touched his face lightly, examining where he was cut. "I could kill you, you know. That wasn't smart. That was stupid to go after him! What if he didn't just have a knife? What if he had a gun? What if there were other people with him? All sorts of things could have happened!" she said in a shaky voice.

"I had help from John. The fact remains that I caught him and he's behind bars now. And even if he wasn't, I made sure he suffered a great deal already for what he did to you. I only made sure he was breathing and in one piece for Lestrade's benefit," he said, looking at her intensely.

Molly's eyes searched his. She felt her chest begin to rise and fall heavily without her consent. The lump in her throat tightened even when she tried to swallow it down. And she couldn't stop her eyes from filling up.

"Molly..."

"Shut up...shut up, Sherlock," she said in a teary whisper. "Just, come here please. Shut up and let me hug you, please."

He didn't answer, but pushed over closer to her on the couch. Molly wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Nothing had ever felt so warm and safe and comforting to her. There was nothing in the world that could touch her in that moment. Sherlock held onto her at least as tightly as she held onto him. And he forgot every bit of trepidation about her touch and her kiss that he had been feeling only hours earlier. Not unconsciously forgot, but willingly. Nothing mattered more to him at that moment than showing Molly that she mattered. Besides, it felt so unbelievably good that he didn't care.

He turned his face outward a little so her hair wasn't blocking his ability to speak.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For making you believe that you don't count again. How am I always careless enough to do that?" he whispered.

She didn't answer, but pressed her face harder against his neck.

"You thought I was pretending when I spoke to you earlier. I wasn't pretending, Molly. Maybe some things that I do lately aren't real, but I'm never pretending when I act like I care. I do care. And you matter to me. More than a lot of other people. And it was all I could do not to kill that man for hurting you." He felt her let out a small sob against him.

"I know, I know, it's ok," she murmured against the collar of his shirt.

He turned and pressed a kiss to her her jawline before tucking his face against her shoulder again and renewing his grasp around her waist. Sherlock leaned back then against the pillow at the arm of the couch, allowing them to recline more, but neither moved from the embrace. Sherlock felt Molly's breathing slow after a few minutes, and he could feel her body relax against him. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Go to sleep, Molly," he whispered.

"Don't you need to go?" Her voice was already groggy.

"No, I don't. I need to be here...just go to sleep." He lifted his legs to lay them across the couch.

"Mmm...ok." She was already almost out.

Molly was deeply asleep in a few minutes more but Sherlock didn't fall asleep right away. His mind and pulse were still racing too frantically. He stayed exactly where he was though, and eventually he drifted off too. Just as he did, what rang in his head were words of John's...

_"Don't end it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 13 and 14 up tomorrow! ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock woke up the next morning hearing sounds in the kitchen. Wait...not his kitchen. Wait...not his couch. _Oh yes_...

He looked down at the head on his chest and the messy brown ponytail that almost touched his chin and remembered the events of the night before. This was certainly a different way to wake up. Not something he had experienced in...well, ever. Sherlock glanced at the clock on the wall and it was a little after seven. He also heard either Molly's mother or sister in the kitchen. He decided he didn't want to stick around any longer than he already had, so began carefully extricating himself from the couch and Molly's arms.

As he carefully scooted off the couch and stood up, Molly did move a little and made a small humming sound.

"I'm going, Molly," he whispered

"Hmm? Oh, is it morning?" she mumbled.

"Shh, go back to sleep. It's still early. I'll talk to you later." He moved her ponytail from off her face as she closed her eyes again and went back to peacefully resting.

He stuck his head around the corner briefly to look into the kitchen. "Morning, Mrs. Hooper. Molly's still resting. Sorry to run, but I was going to be working today. Had some cases waiting."

Mrs Hooper smiled very warmly. "You caught him, didn't you?" she asked in what he believed was an emotional voice.

He nodded. "Yes. Yes I did. And he'd better hope they put him away for quite a long time. Because if he runs into me again, jail will look awfully attractive."

She smiled again. "We knew you would do it, Becky and I. Molly's lucky to have you. There was a time I never believed I'd say that. But I know it's true now."

Sherlock had a brief stab of guilt at that comment. But he smiled at Mrs. Hooper.

"I think it's safe to say I'm the lucky one, Mrs. Hooper. But thank you."

Sherlock got outside soon after and flagged down a cab. He began heading toward Baker Street. He was feeling awfully good this morning, truth be told. He sent a message to John.

MORNING JOHN. YOU'LL BE OVER SOON, YES? -SH

SERIOUSLY SHERLOCK? NOW? YOU HAD ME OUT SO LATE!I WAS STILL SLEEPING! -JW

I HAVE CASES WAITING AND NEED YOU WITH ME...AND CLEARLY YOU'RE NOT STILL SLEEPING. -SH

I HATE YOU. -JW

SEE YOU SOON. -SH

Sherlock smiled and replaced his phone in his pocket.

Over an hour later, Sherlock had gotten back home, showered, and changed. He was drinking the tea Mrs. Hudson had brought up to him when John finally came through the door looking horrible.

"Ah! John! You took long enough. I have a couple promising cases here, maybe you'd like to take a look."

John rubbed his temple. "Not really, Sherlock. I'd like to make some coffee, sit and drink it nice and slow, and then maybe look at cases. You don't get to push me around when you just called me out of bed the night before." He made his way into the kitchen, slowly shuffling around and starting coffee.

"Don't be such a baby, John! Besides, I'm just training you. You'll be losing lots of sleep soon, and the person causing it wont care how tired you are the next morning!"

John peered at him out of the kitchen. "What's the matter with you? You sound almost...cheerful. You couldn't have gotten that much more sleep than me. Though I suppose it was faster for you to get here to your flat than for me to get to mine last night."

"I wasn't home last night, John. I got home this morning." Sherlock picked up the newspaper.

"What were you hiding from last night?! Whatever it was, I'm glad you didn't decide to involve me!" John shook his head.

"Mmm," was all that came from Sherlock behind the newspaper.

As John was waiting for the coffee, he saw Sherlock's mobile buzzing atop the kitchen table. He looked over and saw the message that was waiting to be opened on the screen.

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU STAYED ALL NIGHT. I GOT SUCH A GOOD REST. I'M SURE I WOULDN'T HAVE SLEPT SO WELL AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED, HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR YOU. HOW CAN I EVER THANK YOU? :) -MH

John squinted at the screen, reading, then rereading. Then his eyes widened considerably, and his gaze darted back and forth from the phone to where Sherlock sat. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Uh, Sherlock? You have one of those uh, those...fake messages. You know, from Molly." He picked the phone up, cautiously walking over and handing it to Sherlock.

"Ah yes. Thank you, John," he replied evenly.

John watched him as he took the phone, obviously read the message, half smiled, and then clearly began responding. Sherlock then put his phone on the table beside his chair and opened the newspaper again.

John stood there poised, wheels turning uncomfortable in his sleepy head. He started to open his mouth a couple times, then didn't.

"Yes, John, what is it?" came the deep voice from behind the newspaper.

John rolled his eyes, then spoke. "Sherlock, why did Molly just send you that text?"

"I'd think that was obvious," he answered, still not removing the newspaper.

"Well, uh, no not really, Sherlock. This is  _you_  we're talking about. Where were you last night?"

"I stayed at Molly's. Was that not obvious from the text?"

"Well, I'm just curious of the circumstances now. Please bear with me- So how did you stay at Molly's? Her mother and sister are in the spare room aren't they?"

"Yes."

"So wasn't Molly in her room?"

"No, John, she was not."

"Oh God, Sherlock, tell me you did not make a woman who had just been physically attacked sleep on her couch so you could have her bed! That would be a new low for you!"

Sherlock finally lowered the newspaper and glared at John. "Alright fine, let's get this over with! I slept with Molly on her couch."

John stared, mouth hanging open at his friend. After a moment, he pressed his mouth closed and turned back into the kitchen. He carefully got a mug, poured himself some coffee, added the milk, and then came over to take a seat in his chair across from Sherlock. He took a sip, then cleared his throat and leaned forward before speaking again.

"Sorry, I hadn't actually had any of my coffee yet when you spoke before. I may have misheard. Could you just repeat the last thing you said to me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Right...I slept with Molly on her couch."

John pressed his eyes closed for a minute, then took a breath. "See that's what I could have sworn you'd said moments ago, but I just didn't believe it. Ok, I don't know which question to ask first, to be honest. How about, why?!"

"Well, she was in an emotionally needy state. I had also just helped her a great deal by finding the man who had attacked her, and she was very grateful."

"Very grateful? Exactly,  _how_  grateful are we talking about, Sherlock?"

Sherlock tipped his head and narrowed his eyes for a moment, considering this question. Then his understood.

"Ah. Let me first clarify, John. When I use the word sleep, I'm using it in the  _literal_  sense of the word. Each of us were sleeping on the couch, and we were together."

"Okaaay, I'll dial down my shock just one or two notches in that case. No, but still! Sherlock! I've seen Molly's couch! It's smaller than your couch. This is almost more shocking than hearing that you had sex with Molly on her couch. Basically, you're telling me that you snuggled with Molly on her couch, and then you both went to sleep. Am I following?"

Sherlock scoffed and shook his head. "Really, John, you're making it out to be much more than it is! Snuggling?! Honestly! We simply fell asleep in each other's arms."

John stared at Sherlock, and Sherlock stared back. Then Sherlock looked up in thought.

"Sherlock you realize-"

"Yes, John," he said wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I do realize once saying the words out loud, that in an effort to downplay the significance of the event, I did quite the opposite. Perhaps my choice of wording wasn't... _ideal_."

"Yeah, look, I'm not gonna downplay this event no matter what you say. So don't bother trying to come up with different wording." John smiled before sipping more of his coffee. "I'm just amazed you didn't spontaneously combust or something! You don't do, you know...hugging and touching."

"Oh come on, John, that's ridiculous. I'm a man of science and chemistry. It would be flying against all available research on the subject to say that human touch isn't integral to life itself! Surely being a physician you've heard of all the studies showing that patients rate of healing and response to treatments can be effected simply by the touch of their doctor. Or the sad truth that the babies left to themselves in orphanages cannot even grow, develop, and thrive properly because people aren't touching them. I may not be  _touchy_ , but I know the benefits and importance of human touch!"

"You're trying to get all deep and scientific on me now, and change the subject! I'll buy the fact that you don't refuse all human touch. But this isn't just any human touch! This is Molly Hooper. Molly Hooper slept for hours in your arms! How is that not a big deal?!"

Sherlock got out of his chair in some agitation. "John, she's a friend. She was distressed, and I had helped her. She was grateful for my help and wanted to hug me. Clearly she needed the comfort, and I was willing to give her that. It's awfully simple!"

"Yeah...nope. Not that simple. I'm your friend, right? So what if I was distressed? Would you feel the need to wrap me in your arms and hold me as we slept?"

Sherlock grimaced in disgust. "No, John! That's different!"

"And how about Mrs. Hudson? Or Lestrade? Or maybe Mary even?"

"Of course not! It wouldn't be appropriate with any of you for various reasons. It's different with Molly."

"I agree! It is different with Molly. I believe you need to think long and hard about how very  _different_  it is with  _Molly_!"

Sherlock stared at John for a moment. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked down, then looked back up at John.

"Yes, I know, John," he said softly.

John cocked his head and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. He wished he could have recorded that.

"Ok," he replied. "Well, good then. So, all harassing aside...do you need to talk about it?"

"Oh please!" Sherlock groaned and fell back into his chair.

"Ok fine! I was just asking! You seemed to be moving very slowly past the point of denial, so I figured I should offer to be a listening ear. But if it's not wanted, I will back off and leave you to it."

There was silence for a few moments.

"I slept really well," Sherlock said quietly.

"Did you? Well that's...something," John said evenly, not wanting to scare him off again and hoping he would continue talking.

"Do you sleep better with Mary?" Sherlock's brow furrowed with the question, looking genuinely perplexed that this could be the case.

"Um, well, sort of. I mean, once I fell in love with her I slept easier knowing she was right there. I tended to feel uneasy if she wasn't close. I'd lose sleep thinking about her sometimes. So overall, yeah. I guess I do sleep easier having Mary with me."

"It defies logic, John. Sleep is a solitary activity. It doesn't require the effort of anyone but yourself. It's one thing that should involve you and you alone. I never believed that my sleep, of all things, would be improved by the company of another person!"

"Well, I don't know, I think it comes down to comfort. Having that person there that you feel so comfortable with. Subconsciously it allows you to completely relax and just let your body focus on resting. Lots of things about love defy logic, Sherlock. I'm not trying to push or anything, but the sooner you stop trying to analyze it and just try feeling it, the more clearly you will get the concept."

Sherlock suddenly jumped up from his chair and into the other chair in front of his laptop.

"Enough of this. We need to get onto these cases! I have plenty of energy, I am ready to work, and I need to focus on things that I can easily analyze. So let's get to it!"

John said nothing at first. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sherlock as they began looking over a case email. But after a while John spoke again.

"So what did you message Molly back?"

"That's hardly relevant."

"Yeah but...what did you say?" John smirked.

Sherlock hesitated. "I said...it was my pleasure," he muttered, with a look of irritation.

John chuckled smugly. "I'm sure it was."

"Shut. Up. John."


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock didn't speak to or see Molly for the rest of that day. He decided to leave her be and allow her time to rest and be with her family. He didn't have any specific need to see her anyway. By the time John left for the evening, Sherlock had been happy to have the quiet again and felt he needed to relax. He played his violin for a while, did some reading, checked emails, and also began texting his brother.

YOU MUST HAVE MADE SOME PROGRESS BY NOW WITH MORAN. I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO KEEP ME INFORMED. -SH

THIS IS NOTHING YOU NEED TO CONCERN YOURSELF WITH YET BROTHER...BUT YES, WE ARE CLOSE TO CATCHING HIM. ONCE WE DO, WE WILL SURELY BE ABLE TO GET SOMETHING OUT OF HIM. -MYCROFT

YOU WOULD HAVE HIM BY NOW IF YOU'D ALLOWED ME TO HELP. -SH

I'M SURE I DON'T NEED TO REMIND YOU THAT YOU'RE BARELY EVEN ALLOWED TO BE IN THE COUNTRY RIGHT NOW SHERLOCK. -MYCROFT

AND I'M SURE YOU REMEMBER WHY THEY ALLOWED ME TO STAY. I WAS NEEDED. -SH

YES. YOU'LL ALWAYS BE NEEDED SHERLOCK. BUT SOMETIMES YOU'LL BE NEEDED TO TAKE A STEP BACK...HOW ARE THINGS PROGRESSING WITH MISS HOOPER? WELL, I PRESUME, SEEING AS YOU SPENT THE NIGHT. -MYCROFT

Sherlock groaned. Of course Mycroft knew he had spent the night at Molly's. Not surprising. If he had thought about it at the time, it may have even discouraged him from staying after Molly had fallen asleep. But he was glad that his brother hadn't been on his mind in that moment. Because he felt more at ease with the events of the previous night with each passing hour.

SHE HAD BEEN MUGGED. I CAUGHT THE ATTACKER, AND THEN SHE NEEDED ME TO STAY. DON'T GO MAKING ANY ASSUMPTIONS. -SH

I NEVER WOULD WITH YOU BROTHER DEAR. YOUR LITTLE GAME IS ALMOST OVER I BELIEVE. I WONDER IF YOU'LL MISS IT. -MYCROFT

YOU'D CERTAINLY BE THE LAST TO KNOW IF I DID. -SH

DON'T BE STUPID SHERLOCK. I'M NEVER THE LAST TO KNOW. GOOD NIGHT. -MYCROFT

Sherlock set his phone down then and went back to his violin. He needed to clear his mind. His brother was keeping something from him. He just couldn't tell what yet. There had to be a reason that his brother or someone wanted Sherlock kept at arms length from the investigation into Moriarty's message. It made no sense of course, seeing as that was the reason he was allowed to stay in the country in the first place. Why shouldn't he be front and center in the investigation?

But he also didn't want to ruin the fact that he was allowed to be home. On some level he was still a bit terrified that the government could change their minds and decide to send him away again. He couldn't stand the thought of that now. He wanted to stay. He needed to stay. And he promised himself he'd do whatever was needed to make sure that happened.

He eventually tired of his own playing and decided he should rest. He just wanted to get some sleep, but he knew even before he lay down that he would be unable to relax completely. He thought too much about the previous night and how content he'd been on that awful little couch. He felt uncomfortable in his own bed in comparison. And for no reason at all, in the midst of his inability to fall asleep, he picked up his phone on the bedside table and sent off a text to Molly.

GOODNIGHT DARLING. I HOPE YOU'RE FEELING BETTER. I MISS YOU. -SH

Given the time at that point being after midnight, he was surprised when he got an immediate response.

I'M OK, THANKS. BUT I MISS YOU TOO...AND I CAN'T SLEEP. -MH

Sherlock exhaled heavily. He could logically assume that was actually the case, since she was up and texting him. There was no reason to lie about that fact. He actually found himself pondering over why she couldn't sleep. Naturally it was difficult to recover mentally from a physical attack. She could simply be agitated. But he couldn't help think that she had said she slept so well the night before. Now he was here, and she was there, and she was informing him that she couldn't sleep. The connection seemed obvious. And for a very brief moment, he actually considered asking her if he should come over...but he decided against it. That would be...too much perhaps.

NEITHER CAN I. BUT THAT IS OFTEN THE CASE WITH ME. -SH

HOW DID YOU SLEEP LAST NIGHT? -MH

 _Oh dear God._  He was actually hoping she didn't ask that question. He was hardly comfortable saying that he'd rarely had such a lovely five straight hours of sleep in his recent memories and that sleeping in her arms on her minuscule couch was a vast improvement to the comfortable and spacious bed he was presently alone in. He needed to keep the answer simple.

I SLEPT FINE, THANK YOU. -SH

I WAS WORRIED THE WORLD'S ONLY CONSULTING DETECTIVE WOULD HAVE A BAD BACK AND BE OUT OF WORK ALL BECAUSE OF MY STUPID COUCH! -MH

He shocked himself at what his knee jerk reaction to that text was...though he could certainly say something like that considering they were still pretending to text each other like a dating couple.

WOULD STILL HAVE BEEN WORTH IT MOLLY. -SH

Her next reply was almost instant.

I WISH YOU WERE HERE SHERLOCK. -MH

And there it was. He hadn't even needed to say it. She was clearly thinking the same thing. Unless it was a farce. But that was unlikely, considering the fact that last night's events had been real. And besides, he reminded himself...Molly was in love with him. It made him wonder if she really needed to pretend at any of this. Was she simply acting on instinct, with no need to plan her every word and move?

He also began trying to come up with an appropriate response to her last text. Every response ranging from "Just relax and go to sleep" to "I'll be there in fifteen minutes" ran through his head. The very fact that he wasn't sure how to respond was unnerving.

Apparently he thought about it too long. Minutes pased and the responsibility of reply was removed when Molly sent another message, probably assuming he was done with the conversation.

WELL GOOD NIGHT THEN. I'LL TALK TO YOU TOMORROW. -MH

YES...TOMORROW. GOOD NIGHT DARLING. -SH

Sherlock sighed as he set his phone down again and lay back against his pillow. He tossed and turned for about another hour, then took a blanket to the living room and ended up sleeping on his couch. Not surprisingly, this did little to ease him. He didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

Molly decided to go back to work the next day. Bart's was willing to give her another day off, but she didn't feel like sitting at home doing nothing but watching television with her sister again. The fact was that she just needed something to keep her busy. Because all she really wanted to do was see Sherlock.

Molly had of course considered the fact that this little invented relationship could heighten her already strong feelings for Sherlock. But she had imagined it would be due to the fact that he'd be acting a certain way around her family. She hadn't expected to be so effected by the times they weren't around her family. Times when he was most certainly being genuine. Every time she thought about the way he spoke to her the night before last, her heart beat faster. She'd never felt so convinced of his genuine care and concern for her than she was at that moment. She believed him when he spoke. No matter what he'd ever said or done in the past, or what he may say or do in the future, Molly would never again question the fact that this man cared about her. At least as a trusted friend. And that was comforting.

And the fact that he'd held her there on the couch all night was beyond anything her mind could comprehend! When she was drifting off with her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat hard against her cheek, she was absolutely sure he would be gone the moment he knew she was out. And that would have been ok. She was already so touched that he would stay till she slept soundly. But to wake with him leaving in the morning was unbelievable to her. He may have done it out of kindness, feeling that leaving too soon would disturb her. She concluded that must have been it, since the alternative was further beyond reason...that he had stayed just because he  _wanted_  to.

This is what she was thinking about when Sherlock showed up at the door of the lab. He walked in and she was mortified when she dropped the tray of clean petri dishes she was holding. Great, she thought. She'd made real progress since her first day meeting him.

"Guess I'm still a little jumpy after being mugged," she laughed while picking up the items and piling them back on the tray to clean again. "So...what brings you here today, Sherlock?"

"Well I have these samples to analyze. I was going to take care of it on my kitchen table equipment, but I thought I'd see if you were back to work. And before you ask, this is police sanctioned business. You are more than welcome to call Lestrade if you'd like." He smiled triumphantly.

Oh thank God, she thought to herself. There was no possible way in all the world that she'd have the emotional fortitude to shove this beautiful man out the door today. Not after the way he'd been treating her.

"Oh!" she answered cheerily. "Well that's fine. I believe you, I won't bother Greg. Anything I can help you with? I'm not really swamped right now. They were trying to go easy on me since I came back so quickly."

"That would be fine. I could always use the help." Sherlock came over to the table, setting down the samples. He took his coat off, in that particular sweeping motion Molly always felt was so dramatic, and laid it over the back of a chair. And-  _oh for the love of all that's good and holy_ , he was wearing the purple shirt.

Molly stood there, temperature rising, wondering if she had really made as much progress in the Sherlock department as she had believed. She felt that she'd really come a long way. No more constant stammering, blushing at everything he said, or being overly attentive to him. But sometimes, on days like this, she felt herself slipping back into her old habits. And she especially didn't want to make such an idiot of herself when he had been so good to her recently.

Sherlock gave her a couple things to analyze and she got right to it, choosing to work quietly instead of taking the chance that she'd start staring too much or say something she'd later regret.

"How are you feeling, Molly? Your face and your arm?" he asked after a long while.

"Oh, good, thanks. I'm healing nicely. It's not too bad."

"Good."

"Yes. And did you end up getting to sleep last night?" she asked sweetly.

Sherlock cleared his throat and answered without raising his head from the microscope. "Um...yes. You?"

"Sure...yes. Eventually."

A little more silence followed.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"About the other night. That really was...amazing of you to go right out and find that man. And then the, you know...couch, sleeping...thing. I just don't think you've ever been so nice. I'll never forget it. I mean it."

He straightened up and turned to look at her then. "It wasn't anything more than all the times you've been there for me, Molly. I was glad to do it...all of it." He turned back to the microscope. "I know I can be selfish, but I do hope you realize you can come to me for help the same way you've told me in the past I can... _have you_." He smirked, quoting the words she'd used while they had stood in that very spot years ago.

She smiled and blushed at the memory of her desperate desire that day to make him understand that she'd do anything to help him when she could clearly see he was in need. And then the words that had tumbled ridiculously from her mouth and immediately made her feel like she should have said nothing.

"Very funny. One of the many conversational blunders I've made over the years!"

"No, not really," he said looking up again. "I think you said exactly what you meant, and what I needed to hear. You said I could have you. And that's exactly what I ended up needing...you."

Molly's smile had fallen and she felt her face growing hot as his eyes burned into hers.

"So...if you ever need anything at all, Molly, you can have me. Does that repay the debt, do you think?" he questioned in an unusually low and soft timbre.

She licked her lips and swallowed hard, hoping to form a coherent sentence. "There was never any debt, Sherlock. There never is when you...care for someone. But if there was...that would more than repay it," she replied softly, and smiled.

He smiled too and then dropped his head again and began writing findings on the sheet in front of him. "Well, what did you find?"

"Oh, here." Molly handed him a paper.

"Hmm," he breathed, reading his sheet and Molly's. "Well that settles it. All four of these men were clearly in the same place last night despite their claims. The residue from their shoes all produced the same results. Lestrade will be glad to hear this news."

"Good," Molly said quietly, trying not to show her disappointment that Sherlock's business was now done at the lab.

Sherlock began to gather his things and he picked up his coat, much to Molly's dismay. "I'm sure you've enjoyed your quiet time in the hospital for the past couple weeks. I've never stayed out of your hair quite this much. Perhaps I'll be able to come around more frequently in the near future. If you feel I am allowed, of course." He slipped his arms into the long coat and straightened the collar.

It was all Molly could do not to reach up and grab said collar and yank him into a rather shocking kiss as answer to that question. If she was honest with herself, her anger had long since faded. She wanted nothing more at this point than to be close to him again. Close in proximity at work, if nothing else.

"I think that would be acceptable," she said with a controlled smile.

"Good," he said simply, looking pleased. He turned and began to head go for the door. But just as he opened it, he turned again. "Oh, Molly, when are your mother and sister leaving? Isn't it the day after tomorrow?"

"Mmm, yes it is." She was dreading it.

He seemed to actually hesitate, and look a bit nervous before speaking again. "Did the three of you have plans for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, um no. We were just planning on take away tonight."

Sherlock nodded. "Care to eat it at 221B Baker Street? Six o'clock?" He smiled.

Molly tried not to grin too widely. "I think we would. I'll pick it up on the way. Chinese alright?"

"It certainly is. May as well spend one final dinner with your family. Thought it would only be right."

"Thank you, Sherlock," she added softly while her heart was broke at the thought of this being a final dinner. "See you tonight then."

He nodded slightly and then left the room.

Molly leaned against the lab table and tried to relax her breathing. She didn't want this to end, but she knew it had to. She could never expect Sherlock to give more than he had. He had limits, and she'd already exceeded some of them. She was sure that if she pushed any further, he'd pull away. She fully believed that some things could never change.

* * *

Sherlock returned to his flat and took a look around. Not really the best condition for guests. He quickly dismissed the condition of the sitting room. As long as he cleared the kitchen table of his experiments, which were all the messier since he had been kept away from Bart's so much, the rest of the flat could be left as is. After all, he wouldn't want things to be...unrealistic.

Sherlock was rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt and staring down the mess that he couldn't believe he'd created all by himself, when his mobile rang. It was Mycroft.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Oh hello, Sherlock. I'm fine, how are you?"

"You called for a reason, do state it. I need to get back to the difficult and unpleasant task at hand." Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm. He could hear the hesitation in his brother's silence, and knew something wasn't right. "What's happened?"

"Sherlock...Sebastian Moran is dead. I thought you should know. You're welcome to pass the information on to Inspector Lestrade."

"What happened?"

"Well, we traced him finally to a certain location. When we arrived, he had been shot. One clean shot to the head. He was gone."

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair as he walked the floor in agitation. "We needed him, Mycroft. This will set the investigation back. And clearly that was the goal. Somebody didn't want him talking. If anything, that confirms our belief that he was involved in flipping the switch on the message. Whether it was Moriarty or someone else, they are clearly behind Moran's death. Ah, well...what's left to go on then?"

Mycroft let out a sigh. "Nothing, Sherlock."

"Noth- What do you mean  _nothing_?" he spat out.

"There aren't any more leads. The message is a dead end. You can't expect us to continue using valuable resources and time to search for something or someone that simply isn't there anymore. Whoever sent the message, if they meant any harm, will surely show themselves again. The moment any danger presents itself, you can be sure we will take action. But for now, we have to let it rest. I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"If you had just let me in on this investigation, it would not have gone this way! You know I would have figured this out!" he growled at his brother.

"You may be right, Sherlock. Perhaps you would have," he conceeded calmly.

Sherlock breathed a sigh and pressed his lips together, restraining himself from saying all sorts of things.

"Look, if that's all, I really need to be going. I'm expecting company in a few hours and I've got tissue samples and hazards of all sorts on my kitchen table at present."

"Ah yes. The girlfriend. Well, do try to enjoy yourself, Sherlock. Oh and by the way, I thought you may be interested to know that the under cover job in Eastern Europe is no longer available."

"Was I still interested?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.

"Perhaps the British government was...but thankfully for you, the cover for the job has been blown recently. It wouldn't be useful to send anyone in anymore. So hopefully you'll be able to keep yourself busy, and perhaps out of trouble, here at home. Does that sound tolerable?"

Sherlock was too irritated to express how very tolerable it actually did sound. He had been harboring fears of being sent away after this was all said and done. His relief was only tainted by the news of this dead end investigation.

"I'm sure I'll be able to keep busy, as long as you don't keep getting in the way, Mycroft. Good night!" He promptly hung up.

Sherlock took another look at the kitchen, then scrunched up his nose in disgust at the prospect of cleaning his own mess.

"You'd better appreciate this Molly Hooper," he muttered, and then got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 & 16 up tomorrow! ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Molly had tried her very hardest to look nice that night. Not in the same way she'd tried her hardest at Christmas a few years ago. But in a more subtle, simple way. Molly chose some slim fitting jeans and a white button down shirt which she rolled up to her elbows. It was an outfit that showed a bit more of her shape than most of her wardrobe. Not that she truly believed it would make much of a difference. She simply felt it was only fair for her to feel a little more confident than usual, as she was nearing the close of her two weeks of "dating" Sherlock.

They picked up the food just as she had told Sherlock, and got to his flat right on time. When they came in and said their hellos, Molly immediately picked up on some sort of concern in Sherlock's features.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked in a low voice after he kissed her quickly.

Sherlock swallowed and pressed his lips together, noting the fact that she'd read him like a book. "Well, there's been a little snag in the investigation." He put his arm around her shoulder and lingered back a bit as Molly's mother and sister took the food into the kitchen.

"It'll all become clear, Sherlock, I'm sure it will," she said as he'd briefly filled her in. "You always figure it out sooner or later."

"I wish I was as confident right now. Anyway, forget it. I'm trying not to dwell on it right now, for fear I'll wreck the evening." He released her shoulders as they came to where Becky stood arranging the food.

"Oooh! Sherlock, don't you look handsome tonight!" Becky gushed with a sly smile. "I'm glad I ended up getting to meet the famous purple shirt before we left!"

"Becky!" Molly hissed, smacking her sister's arm.

"Famous purple shirt? How do you even know I own a purple shirt?" Sherlock asked, frowning in confusion.

"Oh come on, Molly! He's your boyfriend now, and you haven't even told him how much you love him in that shirt?! She is way too shy!" Becky announced while gesturing to her sister who was turning multiple shades of red.

"I'm sure Sherlock doesn't care to hear any of this," Molly said with a nervous laugh.

Sherlock had crossed his arms in front of him though and was beginning to smile mischievously at Molly. "Oh no, on the contrary. I actually find this  _fascinating!_  Do go on, Becky."

"I certainly had to hear about it numerous time!" Becky continued, weaving away from Molly as she swung at her again. She did her best impression of her sister. "Oh my God! Could he be any sexier in that shirt?! How am I supposed to think straight when he's wearing that shirt to the hospital? I swear he's wearing it on purpose just to drive me mad! That shirt does things to me!" Becky dissolved in a fit of giggles.

"Reeeally?" Sherlock said as he looked at Molly. "I must agree with your sister, Molly, this is something you should have shared with me. You know, it does all make sense now. I couldn't quite figure out the pattern of your behavior at the hospital in the past. But perhaps the shirt was the reason for the occasional excessive foolishness. As opposed to the typical attention you showed me. Yes, I believe this will be  _extremely_ useful information." He slid his arms around her waist.

The color spread in Molly's face all over again, now because he was actually holding her and looking down at her while wearing that smug but adorable smile.

"As you can see, Becky, he doesn't actually need any more reasons to think he's fabulous. Thanks a lot!"

Becky only responded by sticking her tongue out at her sister as she followed her mother into the sitting room to respond to her request for help with the fire place.

Molly felt her irritation, and even embarrassment, begin to melt away though as she slid her hands along the deep dark fabric up Sherlock's arms, and then slid her gaze up to his as well.

He tipped his head and peered at her, as if to question. He had never imagined something so preposterous. He'd normally dismiss the idea of someone being so drawn to a person because of a certain article of clothing as stupidity...and yet this made him smile.

"It's just a shirt, Molly," he whispered, as if to a child who was afraid of a shadow in their dark room.

"I know. It's not the shirt. It's just- it's the way you look in it. Oh, stop being so pleased with yourself!" She laughed a little.

He smiled again...but then he looked at her lips. It was just a second's glance. But it made them both pause. Molly felt a little bolder than she normally would. Not just because of the humor of the moment, but also because of the way he was looking at her...and she was acutely aware that nobody was watching his face. Nobody but her. She slid one hand from his arm, up to the back of his neck and then into the curls at the base of his hairline. She was almost positive she could see him hold his breath as she did this. This gave her the confidence to pull a little, easing his head downward. The last time she had tried to kiss him, he had avoided it. But this time he responded very differently. His grip on her waist tightened, his lips parted, and she saw his eyes close just as she reached up to catch his mouth.

It was the first time she had ever felt sure that Sherlock Holmes was feeling... _something_  for her. And she didn't fully realize it till she pulled her lips away. That was when the most amazing thing happened. One of his hands moved like lightening from around her waist and locked around her neck to pull her back in. He actually pulled her back into the kiss, unwilling to let it end, and immediately increased the intensity. Despite the fact that Sherlock had been the one to prevent the kiss from ending though, only a moment later it was him that quickly pulled his lips away from Molly's. And then they were forced to look at each other again. Molly could only describe Sherlock's expression as that of shock. Maybe fear as well. And she imagined there was a touch of shock on her features as well.

Sherlock jumped as Mrs. Hooper came up behind them and swatted him on the shoulder. "Come on, you two! Enough of that! Let's have something to eat."

Molly snorted out a laugh at the sight of Sherlock's eyes widening in being forced back to reality. He looked at her briefly again and he also cracked a little smile. But then he released her and cleared his throat as he went to get a plate.

"Still mad at me for spilling about the purple shirt?" Becky gently nudged Molly with her hip while glancing back and forth between her and Sherlock.

Molly didn't respond, but gave Becky a sideways glance while trying not to turn red again.

"Uh huh...you're welcome." Becky grinned as she sat down with her food.

They sat and ate for a while and the girls chatted happily. When they had all eaten and the plates were cleared and left overs put away (which Molly had insisted on doing this herself since she was afraid of what her mother and sister could encounter in the fridge) they moved to the sitting room.

"So, Sherlock, any interesting cases lately?" Mrs. Hooper asked.

"Oh boy," Molly muttered. That was the start of an hour and a half of Sherlock's recounting recent cases and quizzing the girls to see if they could pick up on some of the things that were important.

Becky broke into peals of laughter, throwing her head back. "Oh come on! I don't see that one! The other ones I could see how you would figure it out, but I don't know about this one."

Sherlock shrugged and his hand rested lazily on Molly's leg next to him. "Don't worry, most people don't. Doesn't make it any less true."

"Unbelievable," Mrs. Hooper said quietly, shaking her head in amazement. Then her expression changed a bit and she said "Your father would have loved this."

"He would have," Becky agreed softly.

Molly's hand darted for Sherlock's at that moment, but she found he had reached for hers as well. Their fingers locked quickly and tightly together.

"He was so smart," Mrs. Hooper continued. "People didn't always know it since he was a quiet man. But he had an amazing mind. He loved science and medicine...Molly is so like him. He was so proud of her, becoming a doctor and then getting this job at Bart's. Told just about everyone who would listen to him! He would have loved to meet Sherlock." She smiled at her eldest daughter.

Molly's eyes fell on Sherlock and he saw immediately that her father was the parent she had had the closest bond with. He had guessed this years ago as well, when she had compared him to her father. But he saw it even more clearly now.

"I wish I could have met him. He sounds like a good man," Sherlock said to them all, but only looked at Molly. Her eyes shone a little in the flickering fire light, and he could see she was getting emotional.

Molly smiled at him. "He would have liked you," she said quietly.

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath and cocked his head, looking unsure. "Well, I don't know about  _that._ Not many people do."

"He would have liked you," she repeated, undetered.

"Is that where you inherited your unflinching loyalty to people who don't deserve it then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly and leaning in to touch his forehead to hers for a moment.

"It's where I inherited my ability to see who people really are, despite how they act sometimes." She smiled sweetly.

Sherlock smiled back and wondered again what he'd ever done to make this woman love him so constantly. It was something he couldn't solve; maybe would never be able to solve. But he had begun to enjoy the mysterious concept. He also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if she ever stopped loving him. Even before he'd been so aware of it, Molly Hooper's love had been a constant in his life. Surely it was possible she wouldn't feel the same one day, despite what her sister said. It was a bleak prospect to Sherlock when he really dwelt on it. There weren't many people who loved him, and he wasn't interested in losing any of them...maybe especially her.

"Oh my, I have to say I'm fading!" Mrs. Hooper said as she stretched while getting out of the chair. "I think we should be going, Sherlock. I do appreciate you having us here before we leave tomorrow."

Everyone got up from their seats then and Sherlock gave Mrs. Hooper a small kiss on the cheek. "My pleasure. I was glad you could come."

Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her into the kitchen as her mother and sister were getting coats and shoes on.

"What is it?" she asked, wondering why he'd pulled her aside.

"I'm saying good night to my girlfriend in private. Isn't that what I should do?" He grinned as if to say  _I know what I'm doing_.

She smiled, then looked down a little embarrassed. If this was an actual private goodbye, they wouldn't be standing here just staring at each other. Sherlock then heard the shoe clad footsteps coming around the corner and immediately wrapped his arms around Molly and buried his face in her neck.

"I don't want you to go," he murmured against the curve between her neck and shoulder.

The sensation made Molly's eyes clamp shup.

"Hey...sorry to interrupt," Becky said as she approached. "Listen, Molls, why don't you stay?"

The words shook Molly out of her lovely fog and she pulled away from the embrace. "Oh, what?! No no, that's ok!"

"No, really, it's fine! We'll take a cab back and you can come back later on your own...or tomorrow. Just give me the key to your flat."

"Becky, really, it's not necessary. I- I just think mum would want me to come back now," she said, quickly becoming flustered.

"How old are you again?" Sherlock interjected, which earned him the most covert  _you're not helping_ look that she could manage.

That's when Molly's mother came around the corner. "Despite what you girls may think, I'm neither hard of hearing, nor an idiot. Molly dear, if you'd like to stay, just stay. Becky and I can get home just fine and we will be there whenever you get back." She smiled at the three of them.

"Your skill of deduction are impressive, Mrs. Hooper," Sherlock said with a smile, causing Molly to shoot him another look.

Molly barely had the ability to form sentences to attempt any more objections. The keys were obtained by her sister, and only minutes later, hugs were given, and the two ladies left 221B Baker Street. The door shut, and there stood Molly and Sherlock frozen in place.

"Well! Looks as if you'll be staying the night then," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly as he strolled over to the window and watched the two women get a cab.

Molly rubbed her hands together and tried to relax her breathing. "Well, not necessarily. Becky said I could come back later, or tomorrow."

Sherlock turned and gave her a quizzical look. "Oh come on, Molly, be realistic. What would you do if we were  _really_ dating?"

If we were really dating? she thought. The answer-  _neither one of us would be leaving this apartment or getting fully dressed any time in the foreseeable future_ ran through her mind. So she supposed he had a point. Molly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her as she sat down in John's chair. She turned her attention to the fire and tried to relax.

Sherlock came over and sat across from her in his chair.

"I deduce that you are right now wishing you would have had the wisdom to pack undergarments, pajamas, and a clean change of clothes when we had exchanged personal items many days ago." He gave her a smug smile. Clearly he was enjoying her discomfort.

Well, she thought, two could play at that game.

She sighed and shook her head. "You know, you're right, Sherlock. So...guess I'll just have to sleep naked then! Tea?" she asked brightly, and went to the kitchen wearing a smug smile of her own.

Sherlock swallowed hard, his face turning red. He made a clicking sound with his teeth as his eyes widened and he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, "Touché, Molly Hooper."


	16. Chapter 16

"Here you go." Molly handed Sherlock the cup of tea.

"Thank you." He took a sip and placed it next to his chair.

Molly sat down with her own cup of tea, and thus followed an awkward silence that made Molly desperately want to run from the room and hide under the bed. Preferably John's old bed upstairs. She stared into the fire, then out the window, then into her cup of tea, then back at the fire...

"Molly?"

 _Oh thank God. "_ Yes, Sherlock?"

"Why exactly are you so uncomfortable?" he questioned simply.

"Oh...well, you do remember I'm spending the night here right?"

"Is it likely I'd forget?"

"Then what exactly is mysterious about me being uncomfortable right now?"

"Molly, be reasonable. I've spend the night at your flat numerous times. Why is this so different?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, it just is. First of all, _I've_  never stayed at  _your_ flat. And second, you've stayed at my flat before things were...you know, more complicated."

He raised an eyebrow. "Things are  _complicated_ now are they?"

She sighed in exasperation. "Do I really have to spell it out?"

"What? It's different now simply because we've been physically affectionate? Doesn't change anything." His voice dropped a little though, and lost the air of authority he'd meant it to have.

"How can that not be strange for you? Have you really kissed that many women that it's not even a big deal? I think not!"

Sherlock then looked indignant. "Oh, so you assume that this is some sort of life altering event for me then? Having kissed you, my very existence is not what it used to be!" He exclaimed, gesturing dramatically.

"Oh stop it, Sherlock! It's got to be a little weird for you. You normally barely touch anyone around you, and suddenly you're sleeping with me on my tiny couch and snogging me in your kitchen. Just a tiny bit different from our normal interactions!"

Sherlock shrugged and made a dismissive snort, brushing off the statement. "Well it's only...temporary after all."

"Yes...temporary," she said quietly, staring into the flames. Molly felt it was time to change the subject.

"So, is John's bed made up?"

"I believe there is bedding on it," Sherlock said, now paying attention to something on his phone.

"I mean, is it clean? Is it fresh bedding?"

"It may be."

"Well...did you change it, Sherlock?"

"Mmm, no."

"Well who in the world else would have done it?!"

"Not...sure."

"It's been years since anyone's slept in there! That bed must be covered in an inch of dust by now!"

Sherlock sighed as if this was a silly subject to be discussing. "I don't go in John's room. I haven't bothered to think about the amount of dust in there!"

"Oh fine. I'll just take the couch then."

"No need. I'll take the couch. You can have my bed."

Molly was a little shocked at the offer. "Oh, well that's not necessary. You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. You've given up your bed many times for me. It's the least I can do."

"Well...ok. Thanks, Sherlock." She smiled at him, though he still hadn't looked up.

"You're welcome."

Sherlock looked up then and peered at Molly as she tried to draw her knees up and tuck her legs onto the chair, but then she let them fall again and sighed in some frustration. She tugged at the fabric of her white shirt, not that it changed the formation or fit of the garment at all. She was clearly a little physically uncomfortable.

"You'd like to change wouldn't you? You're not used to relaxing at night in your flat in jeans," he ventured.

"Um...no I'm not. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you'd know that."

"You're visibly uncomfortable for one, and on top of that I have never seen you in jeans when I've arrived unannounced at your flat. Would you like me to get you something? Something to sleep in. I have pajamas you can borrow."

The idea sounded so wonderful to Molly at the moment, she didn't even try to conceal her gratefulness. "Could you? I'd really love that."

Sherlock got up and went down the hall to his bedroom. She heard drawers open and a minute later, he came back with some folded flannel pajama pants and a grey tee shirt. He handed them to Molly as she got up.

"These should do fine. The pants have a string at the waist you can tie, so they should manage to stay up despite being too large for you."

"Thank you!" She grinned and went down the hall to change in the bathroom.

Sherlock went into the kitchen and began replacing some of his equipment back on the table where it "belonged." The door to the bathroom was still opened just a crack, so Sherlock went on talking to Molly as she was in there.

"I should have been really generous I suppose and offered you the purple shirt to sleep in!" He smirked to himself.

"Oh right, I'm never going to live this down am I?!" Molly called out. "I don't care how much I like the stupid shirt, I'm getting ready to destroy it just so you can't forever hold it over my head! It's not fair really, I've got nothing on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well you know, I love the purple shirt look but there's...nothing I wear that makes you crazy! So that's just not fair!"

"Pffff! Molly, there's an excellent reason for that! There's nothing you own that is in any way designed to entice! Over-sized jumpers, large ugly prints, cute animals, and shapeless trousers aren't exactly going to spark desire in anyone."

"What about the eh...black dress?"

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. "Black dress?"

"Yes, Sherlock.  _The_  black dress. How many times have you seen me in a black dress? I think you know the one I'm talking about."

"Well that was...nice. But it wasn't  _you."_

 _"_ Well then I can't seem to win can I?!" She laughed a little.

"Let's not forget, Molly, there is a large world of fashion that consists of things somewhere between jumpers with kittens on it and formal attire! You could attempt to strike some sort of happy-"

But that was where Sherlock's words stopped short. Because Molly walked into the kitchen. His mouth froze, still open from speaking. He finally closed it again and swallowed whatever else he had been planning to say, though he couldn't quite remember what it was. Molly came in wearing the pajama pants and tee shirt he had given her. The pants hung many inches below her ankles so that she was walking on the fabric, and the tee shirt just barely hugged her small frame and hung loosely on her shoulders that paled in comparison to the width of the shirt's true owner. She had taken her ponytail out and her hair hung mostly to one side of her head as she was running her fingers through it, loosening the tresses that had been tied up. It would have seemed to any onlooker, based on Sherlock's expression, like Molly Hooper had just emerged in a ball gown. She'd never seemed more beautiful to him than she did in that moment.

She noticed his staring of course and began looking down at herself and then back at him in question. "What? Did I put them on backwards or something?"

"Er, no it's...fine- you look fine." He tore his eyes away and began working on the kitchen table again.

Molly saw that he wasn't saying something though, and pushed further. "What is it? Why are you looking at me strangely? Do I look that bizarre in your pajamas?!"

"No no. You don't look bizarre. It's actually a um...good look for you." His eyes darted to her for a second, before averting his gaze once again.

She peered at him, doing a little deducing of her own. "My God, you think I look  _good_ like this, don't you?" The corners of her mouth began to creep up in a smile.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked up at her, trying to act as casual as possible. "Yes, Molly, I'm saying you look good. I'm well aware that there is little or no logical explanation to it, but I've never actually seen you look as good as you do right now...in my pajamas."

Molly grinned. "Wow, really? Hmm. Well...I'll be keeping these."

"Sorry what?" Sherlock did a little double take as she passed by him and began perusing the books on his shelf.

"I'll be keeping your pajamas. You know, to settle the score."

"Settle the score?"

"Like I said before, you have the shirt...so I should have something too. If this is what  _does it for you,_ Sherlock, then I'm keeping them!"

"Forgive me, but I don't believe I'm as easily swayed by how attractive a person looks. Don't forget that Irene Adler introduced herself to me without a stitch of clothing on and I still managed to maintain my composure and even find what I was looking for at her flat! Besides, I have the advantage of being able to wear this shirt out of the house. You, on the other hand, wont exactly be able to parade around Bart's in my flannel pants and tee shirt!" He smiled triumphantly as he took a seat in his chair.

Molly selected a book on forensics and plopped down in the other chair. "Well then I'll just have to wear them over here whenever I feel like it!"

"Here? Exactly how often do you plan to be here?"

"Well, I don't know..." Her expression became a little less playful and a little more serious as she looked at him with something resembling hope. "I'd like to think we'd spend a little more time together from now on."

Sherlock met her eyes and she saw a hint of fear again. She felt sorry for him in a a way. How terrible to be so afraid of getting close to people.

"It's...possible," he answered quietly.

"I mean, John and Mary will certainly be a little busy with the baby. For a while at least. John may not be at your beck and call as often as he is now. So...maybe you'll want a friend outside the hospital from time to time. Just don't...forget about me. When this is all over." Her eyes fell, in that typical way when she was doubting herself.

Sherlock didn't answer. He didn't know how. Should he tell her that there's no possible way he could ever forget about her? Should he tell her that he wished he could forget about her? He couldn't yet decide whether he'd even be capable of deleting the data he'd acquired in the past couple weeks. Her taste and smell and touch and laugh... Perhaps it would be kinder to encourage her to place any affections elsewhere.

"You'll surely be in a new relationship in no time, Molly. You will doubtless have no time for experiments and cases and...wearing my pajamas." The corner of his mouth curled a little. He's actually meant for it to sound like an encouragement. But it came out sounding sad. Like he firmly believed  _she'd_  be abandoning  _him._

Molly had begun to look through the book in her lap, but wasn't reading any actual words.

"I don't think so, Sherlock. It doesn't seem to be working out for me. I think it would be best if I stay away from men from now on. I need to be smart enough to just stay away."

Sherlock huffed a little. "Oh that'll be just wonderful! You're family will end up seeing our failed relationship as the cause of your being alone!" He laughed. Molly however, did not respond. She just continued looking at the book. Sherlock's smile faded and he thought,  _oh God. That's probably close to the truth. I'm the reason she's not going to date anymore._

He squeezed his eyes and lips shut for a moment, then opened them both as he spoke again, as if he was questioning out loud the conclusion he'd come to in his own mind.

"Why would you do that, Molly? You can surely be happy with someone. You deserve to be happy," he said softly.

Molly looked up then. "I appreciate that, Sherlock. But it's not so helpful to hear you say it. Sorry, I'm not blaming you. I'm not. You're you, and I can't change anything about you. Not that I'd want to! I mean I'd never be able to change how you...feel."

How did he feel? he wondered as she kept talking.

"I'm glad we're friends, I am. I'm happy about that. I never really believed anything else was a possibility anyway. But the fact remains, you do have a way of making it difficult for other men to measure up." Wow, she thought. She couldn't believe those words actually just left her mouth.

Sherlock felt vaguely like he had been punched in the gut. He wished in that moment that he was confident enough of what he was feeling recently to proclaim his love to Molly and tell her that he never wanted for her to have to be with anyone else who didn't "measure up." But he didn't feel he could do something like that simply because he had been enjoying the recent affection he'd experienced with her.

Still though, he was so strongly affected by the idea that this woman's happiness was actually riding on him. It felt terrible. This is why he'd avoided such a thing all his life. He was letting her down, no matter what he did or didn't do. The clear implication in what she said, was that she may never settle down with anyone. Marriage and a family weren't things that Sherlock had ever felt he required to be happy. But clearly they were high up on Molly Hooper's priority list. What if she never had those things now, simply because she couldn't have them with  _him._ He felt like he was watching someone freeze to death and simply didn't have the means to give them anything to keep warm. He could not give her what she needed. He was almost positive he couldn't. But he wanted so badly to give her something... _anything_.

"Molly," he began slowly. "I want to tell you something. First of all, forgive me again for not being what it is you'd like me to be. Sometimes I wish...I was different. But as I've said before, you matter to me. You matter a great deal. And you're special. In fact, I haven't been honest about how special you are."

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, looking almost suspicious.

"I told you that I thought it was better to leave you that note weeks ago. Better than going to see you before I left. That's true. But I didn't really explain exactly why I thought it was better."

Sherlock got up from his chair and walked around a little stopping at the window to look out as he kept talking.

"It wasn't really because I thought it would be hard for you to hold the memory of some special goodbye after I was dead. Though the thought certainly crossed my mind. The truth was that...I was afraid. You see, I didn't want the people closest to me to be aware of the fact that I would be facing almost certain death. It would have been pointless. There was nothing any of you could have done. I felt it would just hurt all of you. And to what end? That was what I didn't want, Molly. I didn't want any of you to know. And that was the reason I could not go to see you."

She stopped him then, and spoke up. "I still don't agree with that reasoning, but at least you could have lied to me and told me you were going away for a long time, or even forever. Clearly that's what you did with other people."

"That's right, Molly." He came back to sit across from her. "That's because I  _could_ do that with other people. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do that with you. Molly, you are special because you  _see me_  even when other people don't. When nobody else is watching, you always are. It baffles me how you can do that. You can deduce me the way I can deduce a crime scene. I was afraid you would take one look at me and know that something was wrong. You would have seen that I wasn't ok, just like you've seen it before. And I didn't want you to see it."

Molly was awestruck. She had never imagined that he couldn't say goodbye to her simply because he was afraid of how well she knew him. How well she could read him. It broke her heart that he'd avoided her for that reason. She scooted forward in her chair and reached out to wrap her fingers around his hand resting on his knee.

"You should have let me," she whispered. "I told you before you could have me for anything, and I meant it. You should know that by now. I don't care if it would have been hard for me! You needed someone. You thought you'd never see your friends and family again and you thought you'd be dead soon. I would have been there for you. Even if it was just for a few minutes!"

"But you couldn't have done anything! What do you imagine you would have done?"

Molly shook her head and smiled at his confusion. "Oh, Sherlock, it's not about changing anything. Why do you think people who are dying in hospital have their family around them? Do you think it's because they or their family believe it will make any difference? Of course not. It's just for the support. Because sometimes bad things do happen. And there's no way to change that. But it can be easier to take if we have people around who love us."

"So I would have flown off to my death with a hug, instead of no hug?" Now he was teasing.

Molly smiled and her cheeks turned a little red. "Sherlock, if you told me you were going to die and I would never see you again...you'd end up leaving with more than a hug. Probably whether you liked it or not."

"Mmm," he hummed raising his brows. "Yes, concern for my physical well being was also a factor in not bidding you farewell in person."

Molly smacked his knee. "You wouldn't have complained."

"Well, in that case, perhaps you were right. I should have gone to see you in person," He grinned. "No, honestly...I do believe I would have regretted not seeing you one last time. And I'm grateful that I didn't have to figure that out the hard way."

"Me too. I'm not sure what I would have done if I found out you'd been killed. I never would have had any closure. Probably wouldn't even believe it was true. You had pretended to be dead once before, after all. I'd have thought it was another trick! Thank God that video of Moriarty happened when it did, Sherlock. Or we all would have lost you. I would have lost you." Her voice dropped as her eyes dove into his. "Sherlock, losing you would have broken my heart."

And that's when it clicked.

Time froze around him, but Sherlock's mind began to race. It was as if all the events of the past few weeks came flooding back. And then he went further and further back till he was standing there at his parent's home, outside, with Mycroft. His brother Mycroft. His brother who had always watched out for him. His brother who had all the resources and money in the world. His brother who, in reality, loved him...

_"Your loss would break my heart."_

"Dear God," Sherlock breathed with wide eyes.

Molly began to look confused. "Sherlock? What is it? Did I say something...wrong?"

Sherlock jumped up from his chair and Molly stood too, wondering what was going on as he paced a few steps away, but then turned and came back to her.

"No! No you didn't! You said exactly what I needed to hear! How do you do that you brilliant, beautiful, wonderful woman?!" He took her now flushed face in his hands, bending down to press an insistent kiss to her lips as she made a muffled noise of shock against his mouth. This quickly changed to a contented sigh though, and Molly wrapped her arms around his neck, locking them together. Sherlock's arms instinctively slid around her waist and actually hoisted her up making her feet leave the ground. Her fingers sunk deep into his soft hair and she began to feel dizzy from the way he was kissing her. She was absolutely melting against him.

As suddenly as he started it though, he pulled away and let her down. The break in the kiss caused Molly to let a little gasp out and she ended up actually stumbling backward till she connected with John's chair again and plopped down in it. They stared at each other, both of them breathing hard.

"Oh my," Molly said in an exhale. She reached up and touched her swollen lips.  _Yep, they're still on my face. Just checking._ "What was  _that,_  Sherlock?!"

"Molly, I've figured it out!" he said excitedly. "It was my brother, Mycroft! All this time, I've missed all the clues. And there have certainly been plenty of them, oh  _yes_  there have! How could I have been so blind?!"

"Sherlock! Stop pacing and stand still and tell me what you're talking about! What about Mycroft?!"

Sherlock came over and grasped her hands, pulling her to her feet and looking at her almost tenderly. "I'll tell you...everything," he whispered, then he took her over to sit on the couch.

Sherlock told Molly of the original job offer, and reminded her of the part Mycroft had been playing in the investigation since his exile had been called off. How he'd taken over, shutting the rest of them out. How he'd held back as much as he could, and continually pushed Sherlock to return to his normal life and keep busy. Mycroft never even seemed concerned over this message. And then suddenly Sebastian Moran, who had been the only sure connection to the transmission of the video, was dead. And Mycroft was announcing the end of the investigation.

"It makes such perfect sense! And I didn't make the connection till you said it would break your heart to lose me. My brother uttered almost the same words after telling me at Christmas not to take that job."

Molly smiled and cupped his cheek for a moment. "I would have done the same thing if it meant saving you...that is if I had the power, money, influence, and knowledge. So it's probably a good thing your brother took care of it. So, can you confirm it?"

"Of course. Now that I know this is the truth, I can easily find evidence."

"But...then what will you do?"

Sherlock looked at Molly and his brow furrowed a little. "I- I don't think I know. What does one do in this case? Do you thank the person for saving your life? Or punch them for deceiving a whole country and making them believe they were in danger?"

Molly shrugged. "Maybe you do what they want you to do. Get on with your life."

Sherlock looked thoughtful, maybe even a bit perplexed, wheels still turning and turning in his mind. Molly smiled at him, though he wasn't looking at her in that moment. He was so beautiful when he was thinking so hard. She felt like she could sit up all night and just stare. But she realized that he probably needed to be alone to go over all of this in his head without any distractions.

Molly touched his cheek again, turning his face back toward her. She leaned in very slowly, seeing his eyes watch her as she did. She kissed him gently. One kiss pressed to his top lip, then another to his bottom lip, then kissing him fully on his mouth. She heard him hiss in a breath through his nose and lean in harder against her lips as his arm began to reach for her waist. She grasped his hand though and pulled her mouth away to look at him.

"I'm sure you need to...think about all of this. Sort it out- the way you always do." She got up from her seat on the couch. "I'm getting tired, so I think I'll go to sleep now."

Sherlock rubbed his fingers lightly across his lips and narrowed his eyes up at her. "I am in no way an expert, but I don't believe that's the standard format for telling a man you plan to go to sleep so that he can stay up by himself and think."

She smiled shyly and shrugged. "Then, maybe that's not all I was telling you. Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, Molly," he whispered.

* * *

Molly woke up some time later to the soft sound of music coming from sitting room. She looked at the clock by Sherlock's bed and saw that it was just past two in the morning. She crept out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and then into the kitchen where she could then see the source of the sounds. Sherlock stood by the window, now in his own pajamas and dressing gown, playing hauntingly beautiful music on his violin in the dark.

Molly felt a lump in her throat at the sight. It was beautiful, and sad, and inspiring all at the same time. And she wondered if there was a limit to how deeply she could fall in love with this man. After all this falling, would she ever really land? Or was this perhaps the lovliest bottomless pit in all existence?

Molly walked over quietly, and Sherlock didn't turn till she was right behind him. His arms lowered as he stopped playing. He didn't say anything, and she didn't either. Molly looked at him, and even in the darkness she could see the shadows under his eyes. He was so tired.

She smiled and took the instrument gently from his hands and set it down. She then took his hand and tugged him a bit till he followed her back through the kitchen, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He still said nothing, but once inside he removed his dressing gown and set it on the chair by his window. Molly climbed in his bed and then pulled the covers open for him on the other side. Sherlock obediently climbed in.

Once both were tucked under the blankets Molly reached over and put her arms around him. One arm slid around his shoulders and that hand rested in his hair, and the other covered his arm that had wrapped around her waist. His head rested against her chest in much the same way that Molly had done when sleeping on the couch with Sherlock. She felt him breath in deeply and then exhale slowly.

"Go to sleep, Sherlock," Molly soothed.

He said nothing still, but she felt his arm tighten around her a bit. A few minutes later Molly felt the grip loosen a little and could tell his breathing had slowed and relaxed. She sighed happily, closing her eyes as well.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she whispered into the darkness.

And it wasn't long after, that he actually fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 17 & 18 up tomorrow! ;)


	17. Chapter 17

Molly stretched and yawned as she turned her head into the fabric of the pillow under her head. She breathed in the scent and was rewarded with the reminder that yes, she was indeed waking up in Sherlock's bed. She didn't really have to turn over to know that he wasn't there. She was already pretty sure he wouldn't be.

She got up and shuffled into the kitchen and peered into the sitting room. He was nowhere to be found. She turned her attention back to the kitchen and decided to make some tea. When she went to the kettle, there was where she found the note he'd left for her.

_It proved useful that you insisted I take some time to think last night. I was able to decide what it was I needed to do next. I'll be visiting my brother this morning. I plan to conclude this business and "get on with my life" as you said. Do make yourself some tea, Molly. I believe you start your shift at nine._

_-Sherlock_

Molly smiled to herself and did indeed get right to making herself some tea. She drank it in a bit of a rush since she needed to get home to her flat in order to get a change of clothes. As she drank her tea and then hurried to travel back to her place, she mulled over the events of the previous night. She almost couldn't make sense of any of it. One minute Sherlock had been insisting that nothing had really been altered about their relationship and that things weren't complicated at all. And then the next, he was literally picking her up and giving her a seriously amazing snog. She realized in hind sight that he had been reacting to the fact that he'd just made an important discovery. But still, she really didn't believe that he would have kissed her like that in the past simply because he had put two and two together.

Molly fought the urge to hope. She really didn't want to start assuming that things had changed, or would continue to change. Perhaps this was all part of some experiment on Sherlock's part. Maybe he just needed some distraction. Maybe he was just...being a regular man for once. But she kept telling herself that none of those things meant that he was actually developing deep, and lasting  _feelings_ for her. She had no choice but to guess that he wasn't. She guessed that the moment her mother and sister left tomorrow, he would be regular old Sherlock again.

But  _oh God,_ how could she live with this? She had now actually lived some of the day dreams she'd savored for years. If you don't experience something, it's hard to really miss out. But once you've actually seen it, felt it, and tasted it...how could you ever really go back to blissful ignorance? Molly saw months and years looming ahead where she would have to see and speak to Sherlock while trying not to think about how absolutely delicious it was to be wrapped in his arms or to feel his mouth moving in harmony with hers. She'd heard Sherlock talk about deleting data from his mind palace before, and she began to wish she had such a skill. Because not knowing may be less painful than living without.

But try as she might, she knew full well that she'd never be able to forget what it was like...to feel like Sherlock loved her.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at the Diogenes club and was let in by men who knew him. They directed him through the grand entry way and into a library where he immediately saw his brother sitting near the window. Sherlock sat down silently in the chair across from Mycroft, and a moment later Mycroft looked up to notice him.

He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes, both acknowledging him and questioning his presence. Sherlock offered a small smile from the corner of his mouth. He picked up the paper that sat on the window sill and opened it. Of course the cover story was that of Sebastian Moran, formerly connected to the criminal mastermind Moriarty, being found dead.

Sherlock took the paper and unfolded it, turning it around to display it to his brother. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and gave a nod.

Sherlock pursed his lips and nodded as well. Then his finger hovered over a part of the headline that read "No Leads." He moved his fingers again, hovering over the words "No Answers." He looked at Mycroft, and his brother stared back, barely blinking. Sherlock took another look at the article for a moment, and then slowly turned it around to display to Mycroft again. This time Sherlock pointed to the word "Mysterious!"

Sherlock slowly raised his eyes to look at his brother again, and then very slowly...began shaking his head.

Mycroft's eyes widened a bit and he drew a slow breath. He then inclined his head toward the exit and got up, indicating that Sherlock should follow. The two of them exited the building and went outside past the men who sat at the door.

"Mycroft-"

"I suggest we continue walking for another couple minutes, Sherlock, if you insist on bringing up sensitive subject matter."

Sherlock didn't argue. He just followed his brother's lead and they continued into the gardens surrounding the building. After they had gotten further, Mycroft stopped and faced him.

"Made some connections have you, Sherlock?"

"I've made a few," he replied casually.

"Hmm. Well, I trust it's nothing in regards to the safety and security of the country. If you'd discovered anything of that nature, you'd be required to share it with me."

"I'd say England is relatively safe for now. From what I can tell at least. Besides, Mycroft, since when have we shared  _everything_  with each other?" He raised an eyebrow.

Mycroft seemed to suppress a smile for a brief second. "An excellent point. Some things aren't necessary to share. But I'm certainly glad you're so on top of things. Keeping an eye on the investigation...despite the fact that it's currently at rest."

"Yes, it is. In fact, I also wanted to tell you that I'll be letting it stay at rest."

"Will you? How interesting," he said quietly.

"It's simply not important at this time. In fact I do believe that we all may have delved too deeply into the meaning of the message. We in fact may have missed a critical element...I may have missed a critical element. Perhaps the message has  _already accomplished it's purpose._ And therefore, there's nothing left to fear."

Mycroft was silent for a moment and took a few steps around where he stood before stopping again and looking at Sherlock.

"I would have to agree, Sherlock. In fact I'd venture to say that England certainly has very little to fear now. Things are much... _safer_ now." He smiled a little.

Sherlock smiled as well and then began to walk away. But then he turned halfway to speak again.

"You may have been a bit hypocritical brother. Wasn't it you who said that caring wasn't an advantage?" He didn't turn around far enough to see Mycroft, but he could see the smirk in his mind's eye.

"Well you haven't exactly heeded the warning either, now have you?"

Sherlock faced his brother again and smiled at him. "No. No I haven't. Thank you for setting the example." He turned back around and took another couple steps before his brother's voice halted him again.

"Oh and Sherlock? Took you long enough. You're slipping."

Sherlock let out a low chuckle and peered at his brother over his shoulder one more time before walking away.

It was done. He was even more pleased than he usually was to have solved a mystery. And now he supposed it was time to get on with his life...which would now be the next mystery to solve.

* * *

Molly hung up her lab coat in the locker and slung her bag on her shoulder in preparation for her leaving. As she walked out of the locker room, she saw Sherlock coming down the hallway. She controlled the urge to run and throw her arms around him. She slowly made her way down the path she'd be taking anyway, and stopped when she met up with him.

"Hi. I was just leaving. You didn't need anything here did you?"

"Not particularly. I realized you were heading home now. Perhaps you'd like to take a cab home? May as well avoid the train stations in the dark if you can."

Molly smiled sweetly. She was touched that he still had some concern for her safely since the mugging. "That would be nice, thanks. And you can tell me all about how things went with Mycroft too."

They walked together to the elevator and rode up to the ground level. Sherlock felt a strangely content. He imagined that this was one reason why people wanted to be with someone- be in love with someone. The person was there as a sort of sounding board. At the end of the day, good or bad, you could tell them what happened. And they may even be able to offer some sort of opinion. It was useful, and even enjoyable. And in addition, the skull on his mantel never bothered to look at him so adoringly as he spoke.

They got into the cab and began riding toward Molly's flat. At Molly's urging, Sherlock did tell her about what had happened with Mycroft. She listened carefully and watched him in the dark of the cab as he spoke.

"Well, sounds to me like you both care more than you'd like to admit. Mycroft took just as big a risk for you as you took for John and Mary. That's quite a brother you've got. I'm sure he drives you mad sometimes, but you'll always be in his debt. So this has to count for a lot."

"It does. I'm not fool enough to argue on that point. He gave me my life back. I'm not sure what could be more precious."

There was a short silence, then Molly spoke up again. "I hope you got some rest last night. I wasn't trying to be pushy, but I was afraid you couldn't sleep on the couch. So I just thought you needed to, I don't know, just be more comfortable. I hoped it would help a little just to-"

"It helped."

"Oh. Did it? Good then. I'm glad."

"Better than your couch by far." He smirked.

Molly smiled too. "Well I'd hope so. About three times as wide and ten times as comfortable! It's your own bed anyway. I'd say there's no contest."

"They both offered the same level of comfort in the moment," he said quietly.

Molly didn't even dare to look over at him then. She was afraid of what she would see if she did. Afraid of what she wouldn't see perhaps.

"Molly?"

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps I could pop in and say goodbye to your mother and sister. As they are leaving tomorrow, I'm sure I won't get another opportunity."

She did look at him then. "Sure, Sherlock. That would be nice," she said softly.

She couldn't help the bit of sadness in her tone. She felt that this goodbye wasn't just for her mother and sister. There was a sort of goodbye between the two of them as well. And that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

"Sherlock, um, thanks again. It was nice of you. All of this. Though...I think they'll be crushed to find out when we aren't together anymore. They really like you now!" She gave him a little shove with her elbow.

"I shouldn't have been so likable. Hmm, I don't think I've ever uttered that phrase before."

"Even when you're not likable, you're still likable, Sherlock. It's one of life's great mysteries!"

"I feel sure not everyone would agree with you...but I appreciate it nonetheless. Aside from John, I have no more constant friend than you, Molly Hooper. I'd be an idiot not to see that."

He reached a gloved hand out and covered over hers where it lay on the seat of the cab, not seeing how it made Molly's eyes clamp shut for a moment.

"And I'll be forever grateful that you helped me to figure out the truth last night; the truth about my brother. I may have made the connection myself at some point. But I don't think it would have been the same. It was somehow the perfect way to uncover the truth. That's what amazes me about your friendship. You just make things...easier."

She moved her hand under his so that their fingers interlocked. "It's what you do when you care about someone. It's almost unconscious I think. You just automatically want to make their life better and easier and happier. And it makes you happier. You know, 'more happiness in giving than receiving.' I'm sure you've feel that way with John."

His eyes looked into hers in the dark cab like beacons across an expanse of sea. "I'm not talking about John right now, Molly. I'm talking about us," he whispered in a baritone that wrapped her up like a blanket. Especially the way he had said _us._

The cab halted at the building where Molly's flat was and they glanced quickly at each other as the cabbie gave the price. Sherlock insisted on paying, and after he thrust the money at the driver, they got out and went up to Molly's door. She unlocked the door and called to her family.

"Hi guys! I've brought a surprise home."

The two of them popped from around the corner smiling.

"Oh how lovely! Come to see us off then?" Mrs. Hooper said as she gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek.

"I have. I won't take much of your packing time, but I just wanted to say goodbye and that it was a pleasure to spend some time with you both."

"Come here," Becky said as she forced Sherlock into a hug. "You take care of her, Sherlock. No more criminal boyfriends or muggings ok?"

"Not on my watch," he smiled and winked as she pulled away.

"Come visit us sometime in the country, both of you! There's plenty of space. Not like these tiny flats you have to put up with!" Mrs. Hooper laughed.

"Sometimes I take cases out that way. Molly could come with me." Sherlock squeezed her hand while smiling down at her.

"We're going to hold you to that, Sherlock! If we don't get a visit from her in the next six months it'll be your fault!" Becky gave him a warning look.

The final goodbyes were said and Molly's mother and sister went back to the bags that were partially filled. Sherlock and Molly stood there for a moment, then looked at each other. He opened the door again and stepped over the threshold. But she stepped out as well and closed the door behind her. They stood in the stair well, both still silent for a few seconds.

"Will I be seeing you at Bart's soon?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not sure. Will you?"

Molly smiled slyly. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you more often now. Just don't take advantage of me!" She pointed a warning finger at him.

"Define...take advantage," he teased playfully.

She could only shake her head and smile. Sherlock then breathed deeply and straightened up, seeming about to take his leave.

"Well, goodnight, Molly."

"Sherlock, wait. I just- come here..."

She pulled on the lapels of his coat till he was a bit closer before raising up on her toes and kissing him on the cheek warmly. Then her arms slid around his neck. He responded much more quickly than the first time she'd hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her back and held tightly, letting his face lower till he could smell her hair and feel a little warmth coming from her neck. His breath hit the skin and a tingle ran down her spine. Molly began to wonder how she would let go. Was this the last time she would be like this with Sherlock? Would this be it?

Sherlock's hands slid up her back till they were on her shoulders and he gently eased her away from the hug. He looked down at her and took her face in his still gloved hands.

"Definitely the superior fake girlfriend," he whispered with a smile, then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Molly kept smiling even when his lips and hands slid away. He smiled one more time, turned, and went quickly down the stairs. She heard the door to the building open, and then close with his exit. And that was it. It was over.

As she was making her way back into her flat, she heard her phone. She knew it would be him.

PREPARE YOURSELF FOR MY PRESENCE FIRST THING TOMORROW MORNING. YOU SEE, I'VE JUST HAD A MESSY BREAK UP. IM IN DESPERATE NEED OF SOME DISTRACTION. SHE EVEN HAD THE NERVE TO STEAL MY PAJAMAS...GOODNIGHT MOLLY. -SH

I'M SURE THEY LOOK BETTER ON HER ANYWAY. SHE DESERVES THEM... SEE YOU TOMORROW SHERLOCK. :) -MH


	18. Chapter 18

The truth was that life did rewind a bit in that next week. Molly would rightly describe that things went somewhat back to "normal" with Sherlock. Though, he certainly didn't make himself scarce. He came in about every other day for the next week, and only one of those occasions was case related. Molly couldn't possibly be anything more than pleased to have him there though. She'd lifted all previous restrictions and welcomed him back with open arms. So by the end of that week, Sherlock had three experiments hidden safely in the lab's supply closet. Was it a bother every time she had to go in there to get anything? Yes. But she couldn't care less. Having things back to this comfortable routine with Sherlock was worth some inconvenience.

Though she was of course missing some of the things she had been afraid she'd miss. She had wanted to hug him multiple times in the past week when he'd left the lab or the morgue. She had felt similar urges before in the past years, but it was different now. Now it felt like she was having to fight against what was normal and natural in order to keep her distance. It felt like she  _should_ be able to touch his face, or hug him, or kiss him on the cheek now. But she assumed that he didn't feel the same way, and so she felt obliged to conform to their previous definition of normal.

She was however, not quite correct. Sherlock, though being thrilled to have unbarred access to the areas of the hospital that he so loved, was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable being with Molly. It was uncomfortable being with Molly  _only_  in the old "hand me that beaker" and "can I try using some acid on that fresh corpse" way. If he had been asked, he would have previously said that that's how his relationship with Molly functions at it's best. They work together. She helps him out when needed, but usually just facilitates his experiments for cases and personal research. But now...somehow it felt like  _this_  was dysfunctional. Like there was something missing and nothing worked quite right without that piece.

On the tenth day after Molly's family had left, Sherlock planned to go back into Bart's. But this time, he decided to bring John along. He decided it may feel better if he had some sort of a buffer when he was in the presence of Molly. John was thankfully more than willing.

"Get me out of this house, Sherlock," he said under his breath as Mary squeezed past him with some difficulty to get to the sink where she was scrubbing.

"Nesting," Sherlock said in a whisper.

"Yeah. I know. It's driving me mad! This baby better come soon or I'm gonna check myself into the nut house!"

"If she's nesting the baby probably will come soon, John." He raised his voice to a normal level. "Just come with me to Bart's for a couple hours and then you can get back to your lovely wife, John!"

"Fine, Sherlock! It's all about you isn't it?!" John gave him a covert thumbs up, then went to get his coat and shoes.

Sherlock then went over to Mary.

"Oh thank God you're getting him out of here, Sherlock!" She grabbed him with hands clad in cleaning gloves. "Every time he moves he ruins what I've just cleaned and then messes a new area too. But a couple of hours to myself will make a world of difference. This place will be like new by the time he gets back! And then I'll have to incapacitate him so he doesn't touch anything."

"And being you, you would actually know how to do that, Mrs. Watson."

She scrunched her nose up. "Mmm," then she nodded happily. "Yeah I do.'

"I figured as much. Well I can see you've got lots to do." He glanced around at the already clean looking flat. "Don't push yourself too hard though. And please don't hesitate to call my mobile if you can't get John on his."

"You know I will if needed." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Have fun, and just don't kill him."

"Oh no. That's your job now!" Sherlock went to the door where John quickly ushered him out. They got a cab outside and began riding to the hospital.

"So Molly's good? Things are good with you and her eh?" John asked suspiciously.

"Things are fine, John, why would they not be fine?" His words were strung together in one quick breath.

John's eyebrows raised slowly as he looked at Sherlock who was staring out the cab window. "Oh...kay. I just wasn't sure if this had set her back at all. I mean is she back to the old school girl crush thing after playing happy couple with you for two weeks."

"There's no 'school girl crush' as you put it. More accurately...she's simply in love with me."

John did a double take then and stared at him agape. "Oh wow...look at you actually, you know, admitting it out loud."

"Seems silly not to state it as a fact. It is what it is, John."

John pursed his lips and nodded silently. Sherlock seemed to have come to a comfortable acceptance of this fact. It was pretty surprising. A short silence between them followed, then Sherlock suddenly spoke again while turning to John.

"Is there typically a feeling of discomfort in the presence of an ex? You have ample experience on this front, so you should have a wealth of knowledge. And if this is normally the case, how  _exactly_  is it overcome?" The frustration in his voice was becoming evident now and John had to stop himself from smiling.

"Well...yes usually it's uncomfortable. Molly's not your ex though."

"I realize that, but it's the closest description to the current state of our relationship. And it's simply shorter than saying 'my ex fake girlfriend!' So just try to follow along, John!"

"Fine, ok! So, it all depends on the reason for the discomfort. Lots of times when people break up, it's messy and feelings are hurt. If that's the case it's that stuff that creates the tension if you have to see them again. But it sounds like miraculously nobody's, and I mean Molly's, feelings were hurt."

"No. She's fine. She's not angry at me."

"So, the other thing is that when a relationship ends, the dynamic with that person is suddenly different. You used to act one way together and then suddenly...you don't do that anymore. But the memories still exist. You run into them at a party and suddenly you're having flashbacks of them walking around your flat in just your shirt. It feels weird! Especially if they're standing there with a new boyfriend or a husband. Having that sort of history with a person just makes it messy when you have to interact with them later. I don't think that's such a problem with you guys but- that's not a problem with you and Molly right? Sherlock?" John froze, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

Sherlock looked at him in a sideways glance, but said nothing.

"Sherlock- no, you didn't!" he breathed in shock.

"I believe I can deduce your meaning, John, and no. No I didn't! So don't jump to that!" he said defensively, rolling his eyes.

"Well...did anything happen? I mean I know you had to act a certain way in front of her family. But what about other times? You slept together on her couch and that wasn't in view of her family. Was there anything else? I think I already know the answer to this question though."

"Oh do you?" Sherlock hissed sarcastically. "Are you enjoying this? Deducing me?!"

"A little yeah." John smiled smugly. "So you kissed her huh? I mean, for real you kissed her?"

"Once...or twice. Well, perhaps a third time, but that one was her doing."

"And now it's difficult to be around her."

"It's not difficult exactly. It's just...strange."

"Because you want to kiss her again, and now you can't." Now John was grinning widely.

"Why am I discussing this with you?!" he bellowed as the exited the cab and John paid the driver. "You are no help at all despite the fact that you've had a ridiculous amount of experience dealing with the opposite sex! All you want to do it laugh at me! 'How hilarious! Sherlock kissed a woman! This is the best joke I've heard all week!' I'm sure you'll have a good chuckle with Mary when you get home!"

"Oh come on, Sherlock!" John chased after him into the hospital. "I do not think it's a joke, I think it's nice! If you're attracted to Molly, I think that's brilliant in fact! But I'm confused, what do you want to know from me? Do you want to know how to get her? Do you want to know how to get over her? What?!"

Sherlock whirled around to face him again as they neared the elevators. "I want to know how to make things the way they were!"

"Well, Sherlock, that's probably not possible. You can't just turn back time. And...why would you want to anyway?"

"Because this isn't how things work with us! I'm not supposed to..." His voice trailed off as they boarded the elevator and the door shut.

"You're not supposed to want Molly Hooper?" John asked, but he wasn't mocking or making fun. He was being serious. And he was being understanding. Because he did realize this was hard for Sherlock. Sherlock didn't believe he was supposed to have to live with feelings like this...and be like everyone else.

"I thought it would be fine if I simply went about business normally. And I have been for this past week. Lots and lots of normal. But I can't feel normal! It's infuriating!" He ran a hand through his hair roughly.

"It is possible for you to still be  _you_ and yet also have some sort of feelings for a woman. And my God, if it could work with anyone it would be Molly! At least she won't try to change you. She's loved you all these years and for some reason she doesn't even care how bizarre you or your life are!"

He was quiet. Clearly thinking.

"I can't delete it, John," he stated quietly. "I've tried and I can't delete the past two weeks from my mind."

"I know...I know. You know, Sherlock, when you were 'dead' and I met Mary, I wasn't really looking for a relationship. I didn't want to get close to anybody again anytime soon. But it was like it was beyond my control. I didn't have much say in the matter. It just had to happen. I had to be with her. She was what I needed. It took me a while to realize that, but once I did, it was so much easier.  _She_  made everything...easier."

"Easier...fascinating," Sherlock muttered. He couldn't help but recall that was the very description of how his relationship with Molly Hooper effected his life. She made things easier.  _Dear God,_ he thought. Is this it? Is this the conclusion of this mystery? He needed to be with Molly Hooper. He needed Molly Hooper. it was comfortingly simple, and yet terrifyingly complex.

The elevator doors opened and they exited. "What do I do, John?" he asked in a slightly more upbeat voice than he had been using before.

"Uh...about what? What's the goal at this point? Remember nobody else can tell that you've shifted topics in your head."

"Try to follow along! You just told me that I should embrace this shift with myself and Molly, and in case you didn't notice, I did not disagree with you! So, now what do I do?"

John stopped as they reached the lab door and sighed. "Well you're on your own today. I don't think I have time for any insight...since she's already seen us and is coming to the door." John smiled inwardly. He would enjoy having a front row seat to this show.

"Hi! Come to check on the progress, Sherlock?" she asked, greeting them brightly.

"I am. How are you, Molly?"

"I'm fine. John, how's Mary?"

"Cleaning. Cleaning like a mad woman."

"Oh John, you should be home. Could be any time now," Molly said looking a little concerned.

"Well I'm not planning to stay away long. Believe me, she needed some space for a bit!"

Sherlock went to retrieve some of his samples that had been tucked away from anyone who could complain. He brought them out and set them on the table. Then he removed his coat and scarf and began some work.

"So what's her name going to be John?" Molly asked then.

"We have one picked out, but Mary wants it to be a surprise for everyone. So it'll be announced after she's born. Which I suppose wont be long! You'll have to come meet her once we're all settled."

"Oh I'd love that! Who doesn't love babies right?" She and John smiled, then simultaneously looked in the direction of Sherlock who was still absorbed in his samples. They looked back at each other and stifled laughs.

"Oh what?" he snapped without looking up from the microscope.

"Sherlock, how are you going to do with John's daughter? You don't really strike me as the type to go crazy for a cute baby."

"Babies are small people who can't understand me just like most of the rest of the world. I don't hold anything particularly against them. But I'm not quite sure what the allure is."

"They smell lovely, and they feel so wonderful to hold, and they make the most adorable noises. Oh! And when they start to smile! It's just amazing!" Molly grinned at John.

"You're leaving out the unpleasant bits, but yes, I am looking forward to the whole thing," John said, then looked to Sherlock. "You will have to get comfortable you know. This little girl is going to look at you like an uncle. So you'd better be unusually nice and sensitive!"

"Do you have no faith in me, John? If you remember, I did make a vow to be there for all of you not long ago."

"Well yes, I know. But I'm not talking about making sure my little girl isn't caught up in a terrorist plot. I was referring to things like taking her for a walk, or reading to her, or just holding her. Those are the things I'm not sure you can handle!"

Sherlock was silent.

"Oh, I think you frightened him, John!" Molly giggled.

"Pff! I've dealt with the worst and most intelligent criminals in the world, I don't think a baby frightens me! I'm sure I can handle myself."

"I'm just teasing! I think you'll do fine." Molly said sweetly as she walked away to the other end of the room.

John walked over to where Sherlock stood. "What's you plan?" he whispered.

"Don't. Have one," he replied in his own desperate whisper.

"Want me to leave?"

"No!" Sherlock said quickly. "No, it's fine. I'm not sure I want to...alter anything just yet."

"It's been years, Sherlock! I don't think you'd be rushing anything."

"Shut up she's coming back," he hissed.

"Anything interesting?" Molly asked coming over next to Sherlock.

"Well yes actually I found some-" He froze, eyes narrowing as he looked at her standing closer. "Molly...what shirt are you wearing under your lab coat?"

She glanced down briefly to where he was looking. "Oh! Yes, this is your tee-shirt. I um, just grabbed it this morning. Was in sort of a rush, and it was right there clean."

John went into some sort of a coughing fit that at least Sherlock could tell was actually a cover up of laughter.

"Does it um, bother you?" she asked, turning a little pink in the cheeks.

He licked his lips quickly before sputtering out an answer. "Nope. It's fine. I just happen to recognize it. As I said before, it suits you," he said, trying to avert his eyes and not focus on how she was staring at him, and how close she was standing, and how she smelled, and how her hand was right next to his on the table, and the slight color in her cheeks, and the way his grey shirt hung lazily at her collarbone and sloped downward...

"Well! I think I'm just about set for the day," Sherlock announced suddenly, standing up from his seat and grabbing his coat.

"Oh, really? I figured you'd be here for a while," Molly uttered in confusion as she watched him hustle around the table as he whipped his coat around and onto his arms.

John looked at her and shrugged.

"Yes well, my inbox is full at the moment, so I don't think I should stay too long here. Best to get a case or two started. I'll be back tomorrow, Molly."

"Oh, um, ok. I'll see you then, Sherlock." Molly stood frozen in confusion as the two men left through the door that they'd come through not long before.

"That man..." she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

* * *

John and Sherlock got in the cab and John looked at Sherlock who hadn't uttered a word since they had walked out of the lab. The detective was looking a bit frustrated And nervous.

"Problem, Sherlock?"

"She wore that shirt on purpose."

"She said she was late."

"Ah but that was clearly not the case! You see, her hair had been freshly washed this morning based on the amount of fragrance that was noticeable from her shampoo. And her hair was also smoother, which would indicate blow drying and using a brush, as opposed to air drying. She had also applied some makeup, not much as this is Molly we're talking about, but some concealer around the eyes and some mascara and color on the cheeks. These are not the hallmarks of running late! She clearly just wanted to wear my tee-shirt!" He finally drew a breath after spouting off his deductions.

"Well...wouldn't that be good, Sherlock? What's the problem with her wearing your shirt?"

"It's...distracting." He sounded a bit defeated.

John's mouth crept up in a smile and a chuckle slipped out. "Oh I'm not gonna to lie, Sherlock, I will be laughing about this with Mary later. The brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes turned to mush by Molly Hooper in a grey tee-shirt!"

"I just might strangle you in the back of this cab," he replied, enunciating each word.

John slowed his laughter and then cleared his throat. "Well, you should really get used to being distracted, Sherlock. In fact it's lots of fun getting distracted by a woman now and then. Maybe you should try not to fight it tomorrow."

"Mmm. Perhaps. Though tomorrow...I think I'll need to have a talk with her. I'll have to tell her something. Though I'm not sure what."

"I'll solve that grand mystery for you. You need to ask her out...on a date."

"A date?!" he said with a grimace. It was as if John had suggested he cut off a finger. "That's hardly necessary. We've known each other for years. What's the point?"

"The point is spending time together. So it's irrelevant how long you've known each other!"

"But we spend time together already. And if she'd like to spend more time together, I'll tell her she's welcome to come to Baker Street. In fact I very much hope she does that. I haven't been sleeping well this past week. Worse than usual."

"Oh brilliant, Sherlock! Your invitation for a date will be 'how about you come over any time you want and sleep with me? I'll get much more rest!' You really know how to sweep a woman off her feet."

Sherlock turned and his brow furrowed in question while staring at his friend. "Not good?"

John pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. He sighed and wondered if Sherlock would really be able to pull this off. Thank goodness Molly was already crazy about him.

"A bit, yeah. A bit not good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 19 & 20 for tomorrow! ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to put more new chapters up yesterday. Sorry about that, for anyone who had been reading! I will make it up by uploading all four final chapters now! ;)

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom that next afternoon and finished buttoning his shirt. His purple shirt to be exact. He left the top button undone and stepped back. He could assume this look would be effective seeing as it had been in the past. And the effectiveness he was going for was simply to remain in control of the situation. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with the idea that he could be thrown off and turned into an idiot all because of what Molly happen to be wearing. Yes, he had come to terms with the fact that he wanted her to occupy a significant role in his life, a role that no other woman had occupied before. But that didn't mean he had to suddenly act like a fool when she was around. And he was sure that the best way to do that was to keep things status quo. Things felt much more comfortable when it was Molly who was the one turned to mush. Shouldn't be much of a challenge.

Sherlock heard his phone chime...a text from Lestrade.

I'M GOING TO NEED YOU IN A BIT. I'LL TEXT YOU THE ADDRESS. -GL

Sherlock rolled his eyes. But he figured that he could accomplish something in a relatively short period of time at the hospital. He'd probably be able to swing by this crime scene after visiting Molly. This may just turn out to be a busy day.

Sherlock got to Bart's and made his way downstairs, and to the morgue. He peered into the window. No Molly. In fact he saw another employee in there. He shrugged and went back to the elevator, going up to the floor with the lab. He strode to the lab door and ruffled his hair a bit before swinging the door open. And...nobody. The lights were off in fact.

He specifically had told Molly he'd be back today. She surely would have told him if she wasn't actually scheduled to be in. He wondered if she was perhaps sick. Sherlock took out his mobile and sent her a text.

IM AT BARTS. WHERE ARE YOU? -SH

He actually wandered around the halls for a few minutes before even getting a reply. But it wasn't from Molly. He had gotten another message from Lestrade, sending him the address of the crime scene he expected Sherlock to meet him at. He sighed and responded.

BE THERE SOON. -SH

He was feeling a bit dejected and irritated by this time as he got back in the elevator to ride back to the ground floor. Just as he got outside and was hopping in a cab, he heard his phone again. He quickly barked out the address to the driver and then opened the message.

SORRY! I'M PICKING UP EVIDENCE AT A CRIME SCENE, TO BRING BACK TO BARTS FOR ANALYSIS. GREG SAID YOU WOULD BE HERE. WILL I SEE YOU SOON THEN? -MH

YOU WILL. I'LL COME BACK TO BARTS WITH YOU AFTER. -SH

There, he thought. Killing two birds with one stone. What could be better? He was feeling pretty confident by the time he got to the hotel room he had been directed to by Lestrade's text. He came in and saw Molly right away standing with Lestrade looking at a blood spatter pattern on the bed spread. He also noticed that people were already starting to remove the body of a middle aged man in a suit. He had thought that would be an important part of his observation.

"Molly, hello," he said, smiling down at her.

"Oh, Sherlock, hi! Greg, you didn't text him in time."

"Oh yeah, sorry, Sherlock, we don't really need you now."

He frowned. "Don't need me?"

"Well you see, a couple of my boys just found the suspect a few blocks away. We ended up getting a look at him on the hotel security footage. Didn't end up being much of a challenge. So the body will be going back to Bart's and the suspect is in custody. Once we trace the gun to him, we'll be all set. Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh. Well, not a problem. I'm sure the trip wasn't a total loss. I can always get a cab back to the hospital for Molly and I," he said, pleased at the prospect.

Molly looked up at him and gave him a slightly hesitant smile.

"Oh, um, well I was actually going to be staying around here for a little while longer. Greg had said I could help with the rest of the process around here. It's a nice work experience opportunity."

Sherlock was unable to conceal his surprise at Molly's resistance at leaving with him right that very second. What was going on? Should he have left his coat at the door? Maybe his shirt wasn't quite visible enough. No! Forget the shirt! It should have been enough that  _he_  was offering to take her back to Bart's in the same cab! He shot a small glare in Lestrade's direction and decided he'd have to be a bit more persuasive.

He cleared his throat and dropped his voice a little as he spoke to Molly again, even going so far as to place his hand on the small of her back as he did.

"Molly, it would be a shame to take a separate cab back to the hospital if I'm already getting one now. And you'd be welcome to help me in the lab if you'd really like something to do." He purposefully slid his eyes over her slowly as he spoke.

He felt triumphant at first because she reacted immediately to the physical contact and the tone of his voice at a more intimate level. Her eyes shot up to his and stared, and he could see the pink pooling in her cheeks. But then her expression changed again and she looked apologetically at him as she answered.

"Oh well that's...really nice, Sherlock. But this is sort of rare for me and I don't get to be on site at crime scenes very often. I'd sort of like to...stay."

Sherlock looked at her with widened eyes as he removed his hand from her back. This was not how he imagined this conversation going.

"Oh relax, Sherlock! She's not playing girlfriend with you anymore!" Lestrade said in an infuriatingly teasing tone. "She's allowed to branch off from examining whatever closet experiment you've got going on right now." He chuckled a little.

Sherlock could have cut the poor man in two with his stare in that moment. He tried to control his response only for the sake of Molly.

"Fine. That's just fine. Molly," he added, then turning to her. "I'll be at Bart's for the next couple hours. If you're back by then, I'm sure we'll see each other. If not, I'll be texting you. Have a...good time." He forced the words out and then turned and left the room rather quickly.

"Oh- Ok...bye," Molly uttered too late.

She wasn't sure what had just happened. But if it was anyone else and if she didn't know any better, she'd say Sherlock Holmes was jealous.

* * *

Sherlock spend a full three hours back Bart's lab, trying to leisurely examine his experiments and kill as much time as possible. But by the time he had exhausted all avenues of research available to him, he was not only bored but also a little irritated. He packed up the samples again, grabbed his coat and scarf, slinging them over his arm, and headed out the door. He wasn't going to wait around anymore. But as he was leaving and shutting the door behind him, there was Molly coming down the hallway. She picked up the pace and jogged over when she saw that he was clearly heading out.

"Hi! I'm glad you're still here," she said brightly.

"You must have enjoyed yourself. Stayed for the whole process, did you?" he asked flatly.

"Mostly, yes. I enjoyed it, since I'm usually sitting around here doing the same old things all the time." She smiled at him, but Sherlock wasn't smiling back much.

"You could come with me any time you want, Molly. If you had wanted to be at crime scenes more often, all you had to do was ask," he offered.

"What?" she said with a little nervous laugh "Come on, Sherlock, you don't want me out solving crimes with you all the time. I know you asked me that once, but that was a thank you gift."

"Doesn't mean it was a punishment for me."

"Oh. Ok, well I'll...keep it in mind I guess." She smiled gratefully at him, though she was still trying to figure out what was going on. "So you're done here then? You heading home?"

"I am. I'm actually, very tired." He meant it. His sleep had suffered considerably since he had learned that he could in fact sleep well, given the proper circumstances and desired company.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. I didn't think you usually required much sleep."

"I don't. But I'm not getting as much as the little that I require lately."

Molly couldn't help but think he looked like a sulking child in that moment. Like he hadn't quite gotten what he wanted and he probably just needed a good nap. She felt like there was a bit of a cry for help in his eyes.

"Well then go home, Sherlock, and get some rest," she said, touching his shoulder briefly. "No need to hang around talking to me."

Sherlock was feeling terribly defeated. He had planned to accomplish something today. No, he didn't want to ask her on some ridiculous textbook date as John had suggested. But he had wanted to make her...understand. And he hadn't done that. Not even close. The prospect of making his freshly discovered feelings clear to Molly was daunting anyway. And if anything, he felt like he'd moved backwards today. Molly somehow seemed the most indifferent to him he had ever observed. Was this some sort of reverse psychology going on? Was he pushing her away by showing even the slightest bit of interest? All these thoughts literally made his head hurt. He still hated dwelling on sentiment, despite his feelings for Molly. Emotions were so difficult to quantify and predict. And in addition to all of this which would easily boggle his mind in normal circumstances...he truly was so, so tired. In fact, standing there looking into Molly's sweet eyes seemed to make him all the more sleepy.

"Sherlock? Shall I get you a cab or something?" She began to worry about his ability to make it home as his eyes glazed over a bit.

"What? No, no. I'm fine really. Would you um, would you like to come back home with me?" he questioned with a little frown.

Molly searched his face for answers, becoming more confused by the second. "Oh um, well I think you'd probably do well to go home and get some sleep. Not really the best time for entertaining I think."

"Yes, yes, I know. I wasn't offering any entertainment. I was actually wondering if you'd consider-"

Sherlock halted as he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and saw that John was calling. He motioned at Molly to wait a moment, and then answered the call.

"Yes, John?"

"Sherlock, I've just got a minute to pick up the phone. Where are you?"

"About to head home from Bart's. Why?" Though he already knew the answer to this question. He could hear it in John's voice.

"Don't leave! Don't go anywhere! Mary's having the baby!"

"You're upstairs?" He grabbed Molly's arm, dragging her along, as he started heading toward the elevators.

"Yes. She's in her room. Maternity is third floor."

"I'll be up there in a few minutes, John."

"Ok, just ask for me when you get to the desk." John hung up.

"Is she in labor?" Molly asked as Sherlock hung up on his end as well while he had taken them both inside an awaiting elevator.

"She is indeed. Looks like I'll be here for a while." He closed the elevator doors as he pushed the button for the third floor.

"Well it looks like I'm coming with you I suppose!" Molly said with a laugh as she glanced around her.

Sherlock realized what he'd done. "Oh, Oh! Sorry, Molly, you don't have to stay for all this. I just dragged you along because we were talking and then I was interrupted by answering John's call."

To his surprise, and pleasure to be honest, Molly reached down and threaded her fingers with his own. "Do you think I'd miss this? You're about to become an uncle. And besides, you look as if you may just fall over at any moment. I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock." She gave him a little smile of support.

He shook his head a little, in some amazement at her continued ability to fulfill his every need, even at times when he hadn't verbally requested the help.

"Thank you, Molly." he whispered, and squeezed back with his hand. Then they both faced forward and were silent for a minute.

"Oh and, Sherlock?" she added, in a slightly playful tone. "For being so tired today, you certainly are looking devastatingly handsome in that shirt."

Sherlock stifled a laugh and the corner of his mouth curled in a little smile as he gave her a sideways look.

"I thought you'd never notice."


	20. Chapter 20

"Watson please, John and Mary Watson," Sherlock said to the nurse at the desk.

"I'll just go get Mr. Watson, he said you'd be on your way."

The nurse got up and went down the hallway, disappearing behind the double doors that led into the actual maternity ward. A couple minutes later John came through.

"How is she?" Sherlock asked, looking a little worried in Molly's opinion.

"She's alright. About to get an epidural, so she'll be a little happier after that. She progressing pretty quickly, but she does have a ways to go. Hi, Molly," he added, acknowledging her with a smile.

"Hi. I got sort of dragged along. Big day eh?" She patted his arm.

"Big night, more like. It's about eight right now, and I'm not sure that I'll be getting any sleep tonight! Are you sure you want to stay, Sherlock?"

"I said I'd be here, and I meant it. Just direct me to the waiting area and I'll begin waiting...and perhaps some sleeping."

"It's right around the corner to the left. I'll come out whenever I can, but I may not be out till it's done. Hopefully we'll have a baby by morning!" John gave them one more smile and then went back down the hall.

Sherlock stood there for a moment, watching him go through the doors and seeing him through the small windows as he continued down the hallway and disappeared. Molly knew that waiting patiently wasn't his strong suit...so this could be a long and painful process.

"Come on, let's go sit," she prompted and tugged on his sleeve.

Sherlock followed and they found the waiting area with sections of couches and chairs and tables with magazines. They took a seat on a couch and Sherlock leaned over, looking at the selection of reading material. He immediately pushed them away in a huff.

"What is this nonsense?! Who want's to know how to bake a perfect tart at a time like this? They would do better to have medical journals and textbooks out here. That way, people could actually know what was going on behind those doors!" He frowned, sitting back against the couch.

"Well I think a lot of people in this waiting area don't actually want to know the details of what goes on behind those doors. They'd rather just wait and and distract themselves till it's time for the good news." Molly could see that was not the case with Sherlock. He was probably dying to have all possible facts and information to process and catalogue away. Despite how tired he was, taking in information was calming for him.

"But...if you'd like, I could go to the hospital's medical library and get some books for you," she offered.

He turned his head and peered at her for a moment, considering this. "Would you really?" he asked quietly.

"Of course. You sit tight, I'll be right back ok?" She hopped up and went back the way they'd come before.

Sherlock watched her walk away and wondered how many other women would offer to go get him some medical textbooks to peruse while he tried to pass the time. It was safe to say she was the only one. He wondered now, why he'd taken so long to see what was right in front of him. Not very observant, he thought to himself.

She came back about twenty minutes later with arms full of about half a dozen textbooks. She dumped them on the table and sat down next to Sherlock.

"So! Where would you like to start? Prenatal health, anatomy and physiology of labour and delivery, midwife survival guide?"

Sherlock looked over the pile and selected the one on anatomy and physiology of labour and delivery. "This seems the most immediately useful information. If the doctor suddenly drops dead in there, I'd like to know what I'd need to do."

"I can hardly picture you delivering a baby, Sherlock!" she said with a laugh.

"Give me a few hours with these books, and I'll be a qualified obstetrician," he said with a small but confident smile.

Molly shook her head with a chuckle and picked up a book on the history of midwifery in Europe during the 20th century. There was some silence for a little while as the both of them examined their reading material. But after a while Sherlock began occasionally reciting small factoids he encountered.

"Mary is likely almost in the transition period of labour. That will begin the longer lasting contractions with shorter periods of rest in between. Then she'll move in to the actual pushing."

"There's an average blood loss of about 400-500 cc. in a vaginal childbirth."

He moved on from the first book after a while, to one having to do with natural birthing practices.

"It appears that a strong case can be made to allow for any natural tearing of the perineum that may take place, as opposed to a episiotomy. Possibly faster healing time, and less pain. Do you think Mary's doctor is aware of these sort of things?" he asked, peering at Molly.

"Hmm? Oh, Sherlock, I'm sure he is. It's fine. She's in good hands I'm sure."

"Look at this! Mary's baby will get an extremely large dose of the good bacteria, mostly lactobacillus, because of passing through the vaginal birth canal. These may positively effect the rates of asthma, allergies, and risk of infection for the child. Hopefully nothing impedes her delivery and makes a cesarian section necessary. It appears the natural process of birth has a myriad of benefits..."

Molly tried not to laugh as he stuck his face back in the book and continued his reading. There was something incredibly amusing about the sight of Sherlock with his head stuck in a book on natural child birth. But it was fitting somehow. What else would Sherlock Holmes do while waiting for his friend to have a baby?

A couple hours passed and Molly had moved on to texting a friend. Sherlock had looked through most of the books that interested him, and was becoming bored again. That was when he heard his phone ring.

"Hello, Mycroft."

"Hello, Sherlock. John and Mary ready to welcome the new little Watson, are they?"

"I should have known you would be aware already. Try to maintain the peace in London while we are waiting for her arrival. I don't really have the time to take down a terrorist at the moment."

"It will be done...and give them my best, Sherlock. I'll be sure to send them something by the time they return home in a couple days. Oh, and Sherlock, do try to get some rest. You've been looking exhausted lately. If your looks don't improve I'll send a crew in to sweep your flat for drugs again," he warned in a slightly teasing tone.

"Duly noted, thank you for your concern." He rolled his eyes. "Goodnight and I'll text you when she's safely delivered."

"It's nice he keeps such a close eye on you, Sherlock," Molly commented as he hung up.

"Well I certainly wouldn't have a leg to stand on if I argued on that point, after recent developments." He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, laying his head back against the couch.

Molly decided not to disturb him. She wanted to let him rest. But his head shot up again in a minute and he looked at her again.

"Molly, why didn't you marry Tom?" he asked in a flash. "I mean besides his lower than average IQ."

She blinked, staring back at him for a moment before remembering how to answer.

"Um, well, it just wasn't working. I told you I ended it."

"You told me that in the context of a made up story about how we began a made up relationship. I wanted to hear the real story."

"Well, let's see, it's not really too far off, Sherlock. I didn't think it was right to marry him because I didn't really love him enough, if I was honest with myself. He wasn't right for me. I thought he was, for a while. But eventually I saw that I wouldn't have been happy forever. And I was staring down forever. So it had to end."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "And when did you know that you wouldn't have been happy?"

 _When you came back from the dead._ "Well, it wasn't too long before the wedding. John and Mary's wedding I mean. I didn't want to accept it at first. I tried to ignore those nagging feelings of doubt for a while, but it didn't work long. Tom was pretty nice about it really. He seemed to understand. I'm sure he'll look back one day and think that it was a good thing I called it off. Because he would have ended up unhappy as well."

Sherlock sighed and rested his head backward again. "You made the right decision, Molly."

"I hope so, Sherlock." she replied quietly.

He turned his head on the back of the couch to face her, and his eyes locked onto hers. "You did...I mean it," he insisted.

She nodded a little, agreeing. She was having no trouble feeling awfully glad about her broken engagement at this moment.

Sherlock turned his head again, trying to find a comfortable resting position for his neck on the back of the couch. She saw him glance to the end of the couch, observing the torturous looking hard and narrow arm rests.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Put your head on my lap."

"What?" his head shot up from it's inadequate resting place.

"Oh you heard me. Come on, put your head down." She smiled while patting her legs.

He stared at her and her lap for a moment, considering this offer. "I'm probably supposed to decline and just bravely deal with this couch and what little it has to offer...but frankly I'm too tired to care right now."

With that he shifted his body, curling his legs up on the couch and then lowering his head onto Molly's lap. It was lovely and warm and just soft enough, and he was relaxed almost immediately.

"Thank you," he breathed in relief.

"No problem." Molly meant it. How could it possibly bother her to have Sherlock's head resting in her lap?

She was, however, having a difficult time with her hands. When a person is resting their head in your lap, there's no really natural place to put your hands...except on them. She was sort of hovering her arms above him, not really sure what was acceptable. She hesitated a few times, but finally, slowly, she lowered her right hand onto his side. And then her left hand rested on his head, fingers threading into the soft dark curls. Her fingers began to move a little through the locks, almost of their own accord. When she did this, he reacted immediately and turned his head slightly to look up at her.

"Oh sorry, I just, sorry I wasn't sure-" she began.

"Molly?"

"What?"

"I hope you're not planning to stop that...it feels  _fantastic,_ " he murmured and then exhaled deeply.

Molly had to press her lips together to stop her smile from spreading so forcefully. "Um, no. I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered sweetly.

He nestled his head into her lap comfortably again and closed his eyes. He was so relaxed and so enjoying the feel of Molly's small warm fingers threading in and out of his dense hair, that it almost seemed a waste to fall asleep right now and miss it all. But his biological need for rest took over, and in a few minutes he had drifted off to sleep peacefully.

Molly ran her fingers through his curls absentmindedly for the next twenty minutes, till she also began to feel sleepy as well. She couldn't comfortable lay her head backward. So she leaned over and gently lay her head on his side where her hand had been. Her fingers stayed buried in the mass of hair on his head, and she closed her eyes. And as she drifted off, she mused to herself that this was now the second time she'd slept with Sherlock on an uncomfortable little couch.

* * *

John came charging through the double doors and then turned the corner to go to the waiting room, but then quickly halted at the sight before him. Sherlock and Molly curled up on the couch, sleeping peacefully. If it weren't for the fact that his first child had just been born, he'd hate to disturb them.

He walked over slowly and touched Molly's arm. She raised her head and looked up at John.

"Oh, John, is everything ok?" she whispered.

"It is. She's out. Mary's doing well and so is the baby. It's Elizabeth Mary Watson. Just had to come tell you both. Nobody can come in yet though. It'll be another hour or two. So I suppose you can just let Sherlock sleep some more. I'll come back out when it's time for a visit."

"Ok. Congratulations, John," she said with a smile.

John smiled, took one more look at the foreign scene before him, and then turned, heading back into the maternity ward to be with Mary and his new daughter.

Molly picked up her phone and saw that it was past three in the morning. She'd gotten a few hours of sleep and was feeling a bit renewed, so she checked her phone and emails. She even sent a text to her sister telling her where she was, and why. She knew Becky wouldn't get it till she woke up, but she was excited and just wanted to share the news.

She ended up reaching one of the magazines Sherlock had earlier deemed inferior, and passed the time by looking through it. After about another half hour had passed, she felt Sherlock moving.

He groaned a little and then pushed himself to sit up. "Oh, what time is it?"

"Almost four thirty. John came out a while ago. She was born, and they're doing fine," she announced with a smile.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Oh thank God! What's her name? Please tell me they didn't chose something horrible."

"It's Elizabeth Mary Watson. One of the loveliest names I've ever heard. John said he would come out again soon when they were ready to have a visit. I think I'm going to go home now though, Sherlock."

"You are? But you haven't seen her yet."

"Well no. But I had really stayed for you, Sherlock. I'm not all that close to John and Mary. It's not like I've spent much time with them both. I'd love to meet the baby soon of course. But I think tonight isn't the right time. I should meet her when they're home and settled."

"I suppose," he conceded with a small frown. "Thank you then. For staying...and for being a very lovely resting place for the second time recently." He smiled warmly.

"Any time, Sherlock."

"Don't tempt me," he replied, his voice soft and low while still looking at her.

Molly laughed at first, then she looked at him again and stopped. Oh, she thought, he's serious. She was trying to come up with some sort of a reply, but he stood and began picking up the books.

"Come on. Let's take these back to the library. I'll help you, then I'll come back up here."

They gathered up the books together and took the lift one floor down to where the library was. All the while, Molly was thinking. She was thinking about yesterday, and today, putting the pieces together in her head. She kept coming to the same conclusion, and then she'd stop herself and begin rethinking all the evidence again. She couldn't believe that things were really as they seemed in this case. There had to be some other explanation, there had to be. Molly couldn't be convinced this easily. Not after the very opposite had been so deeply ingrained in her for so many years.

They went into the library that was of course unattended at this time of night. Molly flipped a couple lights on in the section where she'd gotten the book and they went to those shelves. Sherlock took all the books and began handing them to Molly one by one as the found the places for them. She could swear that every time she turned to take another book, he was standing closer. Molly put away the last book and turned around to see him standing there so impossibly close, and she was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that they were alone in here and it was silent as the grave.

"Sherlock?" she asked in a hushed voice.

His response was to move a step closer and slide one hand around her waist, while the other cradled her face. Then his fingers moved, sliding into her hair and then stopping at the back of her neck. He never broke eye contact while he did this, and she couldn't tear hers away either. He took a step forward again, causing her back to meet the bookshelf. She glanced backward for a brief second, processing what she'd just hit, and she saw the corner of his lips creep up in a smile as his head begin to lean down. Her old insecurities got the better of her.

"What are you doing?" she questioned suddenly in a breathless whisper.

He lifted his head back up a bit and narrowed his eyes at her, continuing to smile. "I realize my skills of observation are a bit beyond yours, Molly, but I'd think it was rather obvious that I'm about to kiss you."

"Yes well, I know but...why?" Her expression was a little desperate, all but begging for the answer she needed to hear.

He looked at her then in the most beautiful way that she'd ever see. She'd seen the look of fear before, and pain, and happiness, and pride, and caring, and gratitude, and even desire. But in this moment, it was as if his eyes captured everything he'd ever shared with her, and reflected it all back. Sherlock was showing her everything in that swirling sea of green and blue gazing down at her. Everything he had.

"Because...I...w _ant_  to," he whispered slowly, and lowered his head again as the words left his lips.

Molly had barely breathed out "Ok" as he tilted his head to capture her mouth with his. Once their lips had locked together in motion, Molly slid one arm around his neck, while the other went round his back and anchored over his shoulder. She felt like she was floating, or dreaming, or dying. Whatever it was, it was delicious. There had never been a kiss like this. Even in the weeks before. Never had it truly just been him and her. Sherlock kissing her just because he wanted to. With nobody around, and no other possible motivator. They clung tightly together, hands alternately in each other's hair and then grasping onto the fabric of shirts. Molly absolutely never wanted it to end.

Sherlock was equally enveloped in their kiss and was silently cursing himself for waiting this long to do something like this. He wondered how had he lived before this moment! How he could have denied his senses this unbelievable experience. He was presently working out in his mind the quickest way to get from the exact spot where they were in the library, back to his flat on Baker Street, when they were both startled by the sound of his phone ringing.

Sherlock fumbled in the pocket of his pants and answered the phone, while trying to slow his breathing. He had momentarily forgotten where they were. "Yes, John?"

"Sherlock, where did you go? If you want to see her now, you can come in. I went to the waiting area, but you were both gone."

"Yes um, we had to make a brief detour." He ran a hand through his hair while taking another deep breath.

"Oh. Ok, well, we're up here whenever you get back. I told the nurse to let you in. So just ask for us again at the desk."

"Right. Fine then, tell Mary I'll be back up in just a minute," he said as naturally as possible. Sherlock hung up his phone and returned it to his pocket. He placed his hands on his hips and let out a slow breath as he looked cautiously back at Molly.

Their mouths both slowly crept up in a smile. Sherlock stepped back over and took her face in his hands. "I've got to go back upstairs," he whispered.

"I know. That's fine."

"It's  _really_ not." He shook his head before pressing a kiss quickly on her lips.

"Am I ever going to see you again? I mean, you're not leaving or dying or anything are you?" she asked with a little laugh.

"Leaving, no. Dying, no. And yes, you'll see me again. I'm fairly certain you have no choice in the matter. In fact, I don't think I have any choice in the matter!"

Molly smiled and took a hand off her face, holding it. "Come on, you've got to get upstairs." She tugged him along, leaving the library and then getting back in the lift.

She stood there, riding in the lift and holding Sherlock's hand, and laughed inwardly thinking that she'd just done this some hours before. But now there was an entire world of difference. Because her lips were still tingling, and her pulse was still racing, and her cheeks still felt hot. She had just been kissing, and being thoroughly kissed, by Sherlock. Because he had wanted to. She shut her eyes for a second as she sighed happily.

She heard the ding of the lift as it reached the next floor and then she opened her eyes. He turned to face her while reaching a hand out and sticking it on the door to prevent it from closing. He stroked her cheek with his thumb as he looked down into her eyes.

"Have you told your family yet that we are no longer together?" he asked slowly.

"No. I haven't." she managed.

Then he stepped away from her and outside the lift doors. "Good. It would be...unwise for you to do so now. See you soon Molly," he stated pleasantly, and smiled at her as the doors closed, separating them only for the time being.

* * *

Sherlock knocked lightly on the door and heard Mary call for him to come in.

He entered cautiously, first seeing John, but as he rounded the corner, there was Mary sitting up in the hospital bed, cradling a little bundle in her arms.

"Forgive me, I took a few minutes." He stood by the bed peering down at what lay in Mary's arms.

"It's fine, Sherlock, you're here now. Allow me to introduce Elizabeth Mary Watson," Mary said softly, and pulled the pink blanket aside a bit to show more of the baby's face.

"Oh thank God, Mary...she looks like you." Sherlock glanced up with a teasing smile at John. "Are you feeling alright?" Sherlock questioned to the new mother.

"I'm fine, yes. Everything went really well. I'll be up and about in no time I think."

"Ah. No episiotomy then I take it?" he asked, brow raising in interest.

Mary blinked at him. "Er, no. Nope there wasn't, thanks for asking."

John came over and looked down at his daughter as well after glancing out the window. "Sun's finally coming up it looks like. I've never been happier after a night of no sleep."

"Don't speak too soon, John. You'll be singing a different tune in another week or so!" Mary warned.

"Sherlock, you want to hold her?" John smiled at his friend.

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit and he looked back and forth at the two of them. "Oh, um, I suppose I could if you'd like."

"Sure. Sure we would. Just go wash your hands first." John gestured to where the little wash room was.

Sherlock came out a couple minutes later, shirt sleeves rolled up and holding his hands up, looking like a surgeon on his way into the operating room. He sat down in the chair by the window where the sun was starting to come in. He looked awfully nervous and uncomfortable.

John carefully took the baby from Mary and walked her over, then lowered her down into Sherlock's arms. He stepped back and he looked at Mary who pointed to her phone. John got it and prepared to take a picture when Sherlock wasn't paying attention.

He was very stiff at first and seemed unwilling to move with this small weight in his arms. He looked down at her as she moved a bit and her tiny hand unfolded to reveal the five little fingers that splayed out near her mouth. Sherlock finally adjusted his arms to more comfortably support Elizabeth's weight, and he leaned back in the chair more.

"Hello. I'm Sherlock," he explained in a rather official voice. Then the little blue eyes popped open and a suddenly and unexpectedly, even to him, softer voice came out of his mouth. "Hello there...hello."

And as if instinctively, he brought his hand up to touch Elizabeth's tiny hand, and her fingers closed around on of his. The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, to have something so tiny grasping onto him.

Mary put a hand to her mouth and watched as this man who was a virtual stranger to her only a couple years ago, held her new daughter. It couldn't have been no more beautiful to her than if it were her own brother. She looked up at John and they smiled at each other.

Sherlock's head shot up then and he looked questioningly at Mary. "You have already spent time doing skin to skin with her haven't you, Mary? It can be integral to the start of breastfeeding."

The two of them stared at Sherlock for a second and then John snorted out a laugh.

"Uh, yes, Sherlock. We did skin to skin right after birth. Why do you think you couldn't come in right away?" Mary answered, trying to keep from breaking out in peals of laughter herself.

"Excellent," he replied seriously, then looking back at the tiny person in his arms. "Because the good bacteria in breast milk is just as important to the baby's gut flora at the bacteria ingested in the birth canal...isn't it, Elizabeth? Yes, it is," he said, just as seriously, but in a softer voice.

"Oh. My. God." John muttered quietly, shaking his head in utter disbelief. His fears of Sherlock being either afraid or indifferent with his child suddenly melted away in a flash. Sherlock Holmes seemed to fall into the roll of devoted uncle almost immediately!

"John, could you take a picture?" Sherlock asked, beating his friend to what he had planned to do secretly. Then he looked back at the baby. "Because I'd like to send it to Molly."

John craned his neck, looking at his wife with mouth agape. "Oh that does it!" he announced with a laugh. "I've definitely stepped into an alternate universe!"

John took a couple shots with Mary's phone. One where Sherlock was looking to the camera, and another where he was gazing down at Elizabeth. "I'll send them to you, Sherlock."

"Thank you." he said, still looking down. Then he began observing the baby's movements more closely. "Mary, I believe Elizabeth is in need of another feeding."

"Oh, Sherlock! How do you know?!" Mary laughed.

"Mary, really! I do hope you've educated yourself half as much as I did while simply sitting in the waiting area. Your child is clearly exhibiting the rooting reflex. And she will certainly not find what she's looking for on me! Keep in mind she may be hungry often as breast milk is very easily digested." Sherlock got up, carefully depositing Elizabeth back in her mother's arms.

"Dear God, we've created a monster," Mary said to John under her breath.

John was desperately trying not to giggle. He whispered back, "I'll just tell the lactation consultant there's no need to stop by then shall I?!"


	21. Chapter 21

Molly took another sip of her coffee that she'd made as strong as possible. She was grateful for the late shift that next day. But it was still painful coming in at three that afternoon, when she'd only just left Bart's around ten hours earlier. She hadn't heard from Sherlock, but she assumed he had been out of his flat even longer than she had, so would take longer to join the land of the living again. She only got about a half hour into her shift before she heard her phone buzz.

FORGIVE ME. I WONT BE ABLE TO COME INTO BART'S AFTER ALL. TOOK A CASE. I FELT I HAD TO...IT WAS AN 7. -SH

OH. HAD YOU INTENDED TO COME IN? -MH

OBVIOUSLY. HOW COULD I NOT? -SH

WELL NOW I WISH YOU WOULD HAVE. I'LL HAVE A HARDER TIME WORKING NOW THAT I KNOW I COULD HAVE SEEN YOU. XXX -MH

DON'T DISTRACT ME. I'M TRYING TO SOLVE A CASE RIGHT NOW. -SH

YOU TEXTED ME FIRST, SO I CAN'T BE BLAMED. OH AND I'M WEARING YOUR T-SHIRT AGAIN. XOXO -MH

NOT. FAIR. -SH

WHERE ARE YOU? -MH

JUST OUTSIDE LONDON. I SHOULD BE BACK BY TOMORROW EVENING. WILL YOU COME TO BAKER STREET TOMORROW NIGHT? -SH

WHAT FOR? -MH

OH YOU KNOW, TO HELP ME CLEAN MY FRIDGE... -SH

WAS THE SARCASM CLEAR ENOUGH? -SH

Molly paused. She had to proceed carefully from here. She could easily see herself agreeing to just about anything right about now. But the truth was that she really didn't know what to think about all of this yet. Sure she'd just been fabulously snogged by Sherlock in the wee hours of this morning, but he certainly hadn't explained himself. He hadn't told her what he felt, or what he wanted, or where he imagined this would lead. She could make some educated guesses, but the fact remained that this was one time in particular when she firmly believed she shouldn't be expected to deduce anything for herself. She needed to know, and she needed to know  _from_   _him._ She must have thought too long, because he texted again.

NOT GOOD? -SH

A BIT...I'D LIKE TO TALK SHERLOCK. IF I COME OVER TOMORROW NIGHT, CAN WE PLAN TO JUST TALK? -MH

YOU CAN PLAN WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE. -SH

SHERLOCK... -MH

KIDDING. WE CAN TALK. -SH

GOOD. I'LL LOOK FORWARD TO IT THEN. :) -MH

ONE REQUEST- DO NOT WEAR ANY ITEM OF MY PAJAMAS. IF SO, THERE WILL BE NO TALKING INVOLVED. -SH

I'LL CONSIDER IT. ;) SEE YOU TOMORROW NIGHT. -MH

TILL TOMORROW MOLLY. -SH

Molly set her mobile down finally, vowing to focus on some actual work. Though it was going to be difficult considering what lay ahead of her the following night. She wasn't sure what to do. Should she be firm and lay out some kind of ultimatum for him? Or should she just take him for whatever he had to offer, because God knows it's worlds more than she ever imagined she'd have with Sherlock Holmes? Neither seemed like a reasonable option.

She only knew one things for certain. She refused to throw herself at Sherlock. Not just based on moral principals, but also based on the fact that she'd been pining for this man for literally years. She could see that, in keeping with his typical ways, he expected her to jump at the chance to be with him only hours after he'd shown her that he was finally returning her thus far unrequited interest. Molly realized that she had the upper hand in this case. She was more than used to waiting and not getting what she wanted. Sherlock, on the other hand, couldn't be worse at both of those things.

She certainly didn't want to be cruel and tease him or drive him away, but she felt strongly that she should have some sort of authority in this developing relationship. So, at the very least, she would demand a full and detailed explanation of his feelings and intentions. Despite the fact that her heart kept whispering,  _oh, how much more detail could you want? There was already lots and lots of lovely detail in that snog!_ She forced herself to think straight and look at him the same way she would any other man. She wouldn't let just any man grab her in a library and kiss her against a book shelf with no more than an "I want to" so why should Sherlock be so different?  _B_ _ecause he's Sherlock man-you've-wanted-for-five-years Holmes! And it was In. Credible!_

Molly let a sigh fall from her lips. She began to worry that this would prove even more difficult in person than it was in her own head.

* * *

Sherlock came crashing into his flat the following evening and threw his coat on the rack. He was largely covered in mud, hay, and grass, as the case had ended in a chase around a farm. He had desperately wished John was there as it turned out to be quite a feat all by himself. But it was done none-the-less and he had been paid handsomely. Now he had to get himself cleaned up in preparation for Molly's visit.

He took as long a soak in the tub as he felt he could, given the time. He could have laid there all night with how fatigued he felt, but he forced himself out and put on clean clothes. He was just buttoning the cuffs of his white shirt when he heard a text come in.

I'M HEADING OVER NOW. YOU ARE BACK HOME RIGHT? -MH

I AM. YOU'D BETTER HURRY UP AND GET OVER HERE. -SH

RELAX. THERE'S NO RUSH. ;) -MH

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Yes there certainly was. It had been almost thirty six hours since he'd been near Molly and it felt like an eternity. It unnerved him a little that he was so quickly thrown headlong into this desperate need for her. It took a matter of days for him to go from questioning what his true feeling even were, to being certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to be with her and nobody else for a very very long time...maybe forever.

But when he was honest with himself and truly examined things realistically, he figured out that it had always been this way in a sense. He had always needed Molly, and had always trusted her. She was someone he couldn't do without. Yes, it was a selfish need for a very long time. But that had shifted in more recent months and years. The point was that the sudden change wasn't perhaps so sudden of a change after all. She had been the most important woman in his life for a very long time now. The greatest change was really just the physical bit...and that bit was just lovely.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on the door and rushed to open it, though it was a bit fast for Molly to have arrived.

"Hello, Sherlock," Mycroft said quickly as he stepped in past his brother.

"Mycroft, do come in, wont you?" he muttered sarcastically, seeing as that liberty had already been taken.

"You're back I see. Everything went well I take it?" his brother asked while taking a seat.

"Everything was fine yes- Is there something you wanted?" Sherlock stood impatiently by where his brother sat.

"Not particularly. I was in the area and thought I'd drop by, see how the case went. Have you eaten? I'm starving."

"Mycroft, I'm not- that is...you cannot stay." Sherlock's gaze shifted nervously.

Mycroft's eyes narrowed as he stared his brother down. "Who are you expecting?" he asked slowly.

Sherlock straightened up, clearing his throat and sticking his hands in his pockets before replying. "Molly Hooper, if you must know."

His brother nodded as a slow smile spread. "I see the little favor for a friend has turned into a favor for you as well, Sherlock. And not a moment too soon I'd say, seeing as your best friend has recently been taken out of commission for who knows how long. Excellent timing!"

"This has nothing to do with, John. It's completely different."

"Well I assumed it was. It's different from just about  _everything_  else I'd say. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked, dropping voice a bit.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Everyone can stop assuming I know absolutely nothing and haven't an ounce of sense about a relationship with a woman! I'm not an idiot! And if nothing else, I'm a fast learner."

"Well, it seems you have everything under control then, don't you?" he stated in a slightly condescending tone. "I'll just get out of the way and leave you to it. Don't mind me, I'll find my own dinner."

"Yes, yes, good. Thank you for stopping by, and have a good night!" Sherlock opened the door for his brother before he was even fully to his feet.

Mycroft walked slowly out and Sherlock was just about to close the door when he heard the door downstairs open.

"Mycroft, get downstairs and leave immediately! Do not say anything to Molly on your way- I don't care if you saved my life! If you'd like to look out for me, you can help me by doing absolutely nothing in this case! I can't think of one thing you could say to her that would be helpful, but I can think of about two dozen just off the top of my head that would be extremely destructive!"

"Tsk, tsk, only two dozen, Sherlock? Oh, I can think of more than that," he countered with a grin, but the stony look on his younger brother's face prompted him to take pity and let it go. "Fine, off I go."

As Mycroft rounded the stair well, he did indeed pass Molly.

"Oh hello, Mycroft!" she greeted cheerfully.

Mycroft glanced back up toward Sherlock who stood in the doorway, and then looked briefly at Molly as he continued on his way.

"Evening, Dr. Hooper."

Molly watched him as he went quickly past her and continued on down the stairs and then out the door. She shook her head slightly at the inherent Holmes strangeness and went up to the door that Sherlock held open.

"He was in a hurry," she commented as she past him to enter the flat.

"As well he should be. You brought food," he commented while shutting his door, noticing the fact that she was setting down a couple bags.

"Yes. Just Chinese take away. I figured you'd be hungry after the case, and I also figured you wouldn't have planned ahead for what we'd be eating. I can see I was terribly correct!" she said with a small laugh.

There was no response at first from Sherlock as she opened the containers and set them on the kitchen table in the space available. Instead, he silently came up behind her and almost roughly grabbed her around the waist, holding her tightly, and then buried his face into the crook of her neck. She froze and shut her eyes, suddenly unable to perform the simple task of lifting a container out of a bag and placing it on a table. She could feel him breathing deeply against her neck.

Molly brought a hand up and nestled her fingers into his hair, feeling the locks that were still a bit damp. She turned her face and kissed his head breathing in the soft clean scent. He raised his head, bringing them almost nose to nose and touched the lightest of kisses onto her lips.

"Stop being so nice to me, Molly Hooper," he whispered.

Her cheeks reddened a little and she shrugged. "It's only take away," she replied.

"No, it's not." He brought his lips back to hers, more insistently this time. But Molly pulled quickly away from the kiss, also squirmed away from his arms with some effort.

"Come on, Sherlock, you should eat something. Let's just eat, and then we can relax and talk." She glanced at the pout blooming on his lips as she continued trying to get the food out of the bag.

"What? Sherlock, I said we needed to talk. When I said that, I didn't actually mean we should start snogging the second I walk through the door and let the food get cold."

" _You_  don't have to be cold _,_ " he muttered.

Her head shot up and her mouth hung open. "You see, this is exactly what I was thinking about yesterday, Sherlock! You think you can just do whatever you want now that you feel...something. How do you think I felt for the past few years? This was my life, all the time! I didn't even get some take away and a little kiss! All I got was the cold!"

Sherlock grabbed a plate and began dishing himself out some rice, eyes widening in recognition. "Oh I see! And despite the fact that was inadvertent, now you feel it's only fair that I should be punished in kind. That seems rather silly," he stated confidently.

"Why? Well, not that I said that's what I wanted," she said while putting food on her own plate that he had handed her.

"Because, Molly, you'd be punishing yourself as well," he said simply.

"Pff! Please, I've gone years barely touching you! You think I'll suddenly crumble now just from keeping some reasonable distance?" She took her plate over to the couch, flopping down and hoping he couldn't deduce her resolve that was constantly crumbling and having to be rebuilt beneath the surface. "There's no rush, Sherlock. Let's just take it easy."

"Oh relax! I was just kissing you. It's not as if I suggested you sleep with me!" he said with a laugh as he took a seat alongside her. But his expression quickly shifted as he peered at her intently. "Incidentally though, would you sleep with me?"

Molly's jaw dropped and she nearly dropped her fork as well. "Sherlock!"

"I meant would you sleep in my bed with me!" He smirked. "What did  _you_ think I meant, Molly?"

"No! No to- to both. Either! We can't just...jump into things like that." She could feel herself turning pink now, trying to look at her plate and focus on picking up food and shoveling it into her mouth.

Sherlock took a couple bites of food and they were silent for a few minutes. Then he set his plate down on the table and pivoted to face her more.

"I didn't mean to spend this evening making things difficult."

"You could have fooled me."

"Yes well, I'll try not to be me for a bit. You had wanted to talk. You'd better start, because I'm not sure I know how."

Molly sighed and set her own plate down, turning toward him. "Well, can you just tell me what we're doing here? Perhaps this has been gradual for you, but it seems awfully sudden to me. What changed things?"

"Yes it was gradual. But I suspect it was largely because I was forced to see you outside the context of the pathologist who lets me have the run of the hospital lab."

She tipped her head and gave him a look.

"Forgive me, Molly, but that's what you were for years! Maybe that's not how it should have been, but I didn't truly see you any differently till my...fall. And even then it wasn't like this. I suspect this was always there somewhere though, under the surface. As I told you, you are special. And I've known that for a while. But somehow I missed...this." He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I suppose I always miss a little something."

"A-and you want...this? Us?" she whispered, her tone still incredulous despite it not being a surprise by now.

"It appears that I do."

"But, do you even know what this means? To really do this I mean. It's not just about you being able to kiss me anytime you feel like it when you come into Bart's...though there would be some of that sort of fun." She indulged in a brief flirty smile before getting back to her point. "There would be other things too. I'd be able to count on you the way you can count on me. Maybe I'd want to call you after a long day, or if someone at work yells at me. Or maybe you'd have to do tedious things with me just because I don't want to be alone. What if I'm sick and contagious but I need company? There's a million little and big things that make up a relationship between two people. I'm not sure you want all that in your life."

"You don't have much faith in me, do you?" he asked gently.

She met his gaze but didn't answer, a little sad to admit the truth. But she couldn't help it. She'd been hurt too many times.

Sherlock sighed quietly and looked down for a moment before speaking again. "Molly, do you plan on changing what I do? How I work?"

"No, I would never!" she answered instantly."That's who you are."

"Then I don't care about the rest of it! The rest can be worked out. Surely I won't be the picture of an ideal boyfriend, but I am actually willing to try. How do you think I miraculously managed to end up with John as my best friend? Besides the fact that he's a far better man than I am, I simply made him fit into my life. It was strange at first, but I quickly realized it was worth the effort. Well, having you is well worth the effort, Molly."

"You really mean that, don't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. She was beginning to believe that this could actually happen. Mostly because she could see that he was telling the truth. And it felt glorious.

"I really mean that I want to try, yes."

"And you wont get, you know, bored?"

"Of you?" He frowned. "Not possible. There's a myriad of experiments I have planned. It could take a lifetime."

She smiled, reaching up to touch the hair on the side of his face. "I certainly hope it does."

Without asking, or being asked, Sherlock lay down on his couch and put his head in Molly's lap in much the same way as when they were at the hospital two nights before. "There may be unpleasantness involved for you as well in this arrangement, though."

"Sherlock, I've had years dealing with your unpleasantness. It's really no shock to me that you can be a pain sometimes." She laughed while bringing one hand up to card through his hair as the other ran up and down his arm. "I think I can handle just about anything."

He turned his head to look up at her. "I know you can. That's why you're so perfect- Sorry, did that sound selfish?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Well, a bit. But it's ok. We all have needs. And one of your big ones is to have someone who puts up with you and your strange ways. It's not a crime to admit that's one reason why you like me." She leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, which she could swear were reaching up to her.

When she tried to lift her head back up, his hand reached up and hooked around the back of her neck, pulling her back down for another kiss. She didn't argue. Her worries had been allayed and things were nicely settled, so she felt no real need to push him off anymore completely. She was with Sherlock, Sherlock was with her. They were together. It boggled her mind, but definitely in a good way.

When she finally did pull away to look down at him, he seemed so content, maybe more than she'd seen him in quite a while. And to think, she didn't even have to hand over a human body part or organ to make him so!

"Sherlock, you've still barely eaten," she said gently.

"You're right." He lifted himself from her lap with a grunt, picking up his plate again. "I should have more."

Things got quiet for a while as Sherlock and Molly both finished their plates of food. Molly spent some time in the kitchen getting the remains put away in the fridge after that, being careful to widely separate them from things that clearly weren't edible. Sherlock wandered over to his laptop and began checking emails as she finished up that task.

After Molly had gotten the kitchen cleaned up, she looked at the time and saw that it was just after nine. She walked lazily over to where Sherlock sat, looking at the screen as well.

"Anything good?"

"Rubbish. All of it really. Most of them I can figure out simply by reading the emails, and the rest of them are just silliness that I'd rather not even be involved in. Doesn't anyone get murdered anymore?! It's been far too long since Lestrade has needed my help for a decent homicide case!"

Molly was silent for a minute, still looking at the screen after listening to his complaints. She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

"Well...I think I should be off."

He whirled around. "What? Why are you leaving?" The bridge of his nose creased in question.

"Well, there's nothing really left to do. I just thought, I dunno, it was time to leave. Before it gets too late."

As she spoke, he got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against him while gazing down.

"Do you want to stay?" he asked in a low whisper.

 _Oh God yes._ "Well, the thought has crossed my mind. I just was trying to keep things...as they are for now. You know, not rushing. It's not good to rush things when you first start dating."

He exhaled slowly. "If you say so. I suppose I should defer to your opinion on the matter, seeing as you have more experience."

"Yes, and, on that note...exactly  _how much_ more experienced am I?"

Sherlock swallowed visibly and pressed his lips together before responding. "I'd venture to say... _much_  more." The corner of his mouth lifted a little in what looked like an apologetic smile.

She reached up, taking his face between her palms while smiling kindly at him. "That's ok, that's fine. I just wanted to know." She pulled his face down for a kiss.

This kiss deepened almost immediately though, and Molly's hands moved from his face to his hair, unable to stop herself from holding him where he was so his mouth couldn't leave hers. She felt him sigh softly against her lips. One arm locked tighter around her waist while the other reached for his chair by the fireplace. Sherlock lowered himself carefully, pulling her down with him so that she sat with legs draped across his own. Their kiss continued for a couple more minutes, almost completely erasing Molly's previous statement about not rushing things from her mind. It was Sherlock who pulled away suddenly, looking at her with eyes wide and breathing unsteady.

"Molly? If you'd like to keep things as they are...I think you'd better get up now."

"Oh, right!" She tried to steady her own breathing as she stood and moved over to John's chair across from him.

After a minute of them both sitting there staring at each other and trying to relax, Sherlock spoke again.

"Molly, I'd really like for you to stay tonight. And though I realize this is an unconvincing moment to say it, I just want you with me. Nothing needs to be rushed. I just want to sleep next to you, like that night you stayed here a couple weeks ago. That's all. Could you do that?"

Molly couldn't help smiling at this request. The truth was that it wasn't Sherlock she didn't trust, it was really herself. But she couldn't possibly say no to that puppy dog face looking at her from across the divide of the two arm chairs.

"Ok," she whispered. "I'll stay."

Sherlock smiled in relief. "Wonderful, because I could really use a full night's sleep."

"Oh, will I help with that?" she asked with a laugh.

"At the risk of making you feel that I'm using you as a sleep aid, I've never slept better than when you were with me. Your couch, my bed, the hospital waiting area...doesn't seem to matter where, as long as you're with me."

"Ah ha!" she teased. "So that's why you want to keep me!"

"Mmm, not entirely. Eventually I'd also very much like for you to be the reason I lose sleep," he added raising an eyebrow as he steepled his hands in front of his mouth.

Molly blushed a little in response.

* * *

A half hour later they were both dressed in pajamas and had gotten ready for bed.

"Aren't you glad you hadn't yet collected that extra set of toiletries you'd given me to keep here?"

"Suppose I am. Perhaps I shouldn't give yours back either."

"I'd be nothing but offended if you did," he said with a smile. "Please don't leave with my pajamas this time though! Soon I'll have none left for myself!"

"Maybe that's my plan!" she joked while climbing in the bed beside him.

They looked at each other though, and Molly's smile fell away. She had to admit, it felt a little strange. No matter how much she loved Sherlock, this was just so new.

"Come here," he whispered and held out the arm closest to her.

Molly scooted over against him, wrapping her arm across his waist and laying her head on his chest. And just like that, the strangeness melted away as they conformed to each other. Then, nothing could possibly have felt more comfortable and right. She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes and listening to the hammering of his heart. A minute later she tilted her head up and planted a kiss on his jaw line. He bent his head a little in response to facilitate a quick kiss on her lips before reaching over and shutting off the lamp on his bed side table.

"I do have to be to Bart's by eight tomorrow morning, Sherlock."

"Probably for the best," he murmured, already sounding on the edge of sleep.

"Really? Why?"

"Because the bed should be vacated as soon as possible in the morning. I will be far less trustworthy once I'm no longer so fatigued."

Molly laughed aloud and she could just make out Sherlock's smile in the dark. She snuggled in closer, and in a few minutes the consulting detective and his now girlfriend were both peacefully asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Three weeks later, Molly was just about as happy as any pathologist could be. Life had changed a bit. As she somewhat expected, Sherlock had continued in some of his typical habits with her. Showing up at Bart's wanting to do experiments, texting her at odd hours with requests of some sort, demanding body parts...though she was impressed that he didn't increase his reliance on her simply because they were a couple. He didn't take advantage. And that was a pretty big deal for Sherlock Holmes. She was just...happy. They were both happy.

It was a big change for Sherlock. Till then, typically the basis of his happiness was entirely linked to work and cases, and whether they were going to his liking or not. He wasn't used to the possibility of happiness  _regardless_ the state of his professional life. He didn't think such a thing even existed. But now that he had it, he was enjoying it. He had no intention of lowering the importance of his detective work, but there was something rather freeing about the fact that he could be in some way content whether or not he had active and interesting cases at any given moment.

Molly was in the morgue on this particular day performing a post-mortem on a woman who had been found dead in an alley the previous night. She figured Sherlock would be coming in, and she was right. He sent her a text, which she had to take the trouble of setting down her tools and removing her gloves to look at.

I'LL BE IN SOON WITH LESTRADE. I'VE JUST TOLD HIM WE'RE TOGETHER...HE DIDN'T LOOK TOO WELL. -SH

I EXPECT HE DIDN'T. BIT OF A SHOCK FOR EVERYONE. MYSELF INCLUDED.:) -MH

YOU'RE STILL COMING WITH ME TONIGHT? -SH

TO JOHN AND MARY'S? YES, I CAN'T WAIT! I STILL HAVE TO GET A GIFT AFTER WORK THOUGH. DID YOU FIND OUT WHAT THEY NEED? -MH

BABY THINGS I BELIEVE. -SH

THAT'S SPECTACULARLY HELPFUL SHERLOCK. CAN YOU BE A TAD MORE SPECIFIC? -MH

NOT...REALLY. -SH

FINE, I'LL FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN. SEE YOU SOON. -MH

Molly set her phone down and continued with the work at hand. She finished the post-mortem quick enough and was just writing up the report when Lestrade came in with Sherlock.

"Hi, Greg!" Molly also greeted Sherlock by kissing him as he leaned down to her.

"Yeah, uh...hi, Molly. Sounds like congratulations are an order," he said in a slightly uncomfortable tone.

"Oh thanks! Be better for you maybe. You can always let me know if he's too much trouble and I'll set him straight." She smiled slyly at Lestrade.

"I'm never too much trouble. I help. I figure things out!" Sherlock countered indignantly, and Molly appeased him with a kiss on the cheek as she raised up on tip toes.

"So this young lady was far from sober last night at the time of her death. It does appear that the cause of death was from blunt force trauma to the back of the head, but she's fine physically other than that. And her personal items were all in order in her hand bag. It's possible she simply fell and caused the injury herself."

"Either that or it was a crime of passion. No other injury and nothing stolen could suggest that she was killed by someone she knew, with a personal motive," Sherlock said as he circled around the woman's body on the table. "Lestrade, I believe it's time for you to start questioning her friends. She was out at clubs last night, and women tend to do that in a group. So I'd find out who was with her and get everything you can from each of them. If you'd like me to observe, I'd be more than happy."

"Yeah, that may help. Stay in the background though at first and literally  _just_  observe. Sometimes you make it less likely that people will talk. You can make them feel too uncomfortable!" Lestrade lectured.

"Surprise, it's not comfortable being interrogated!" Sherlock huffed.

"Right, well let's get going on this. You coming back with me then, Sherlock?"

"I will be. You go, I'll meet you upstairs in a couple minutes."

"Ah right! Gotta say good bye to the girlfriend. This'll take some getting used to! See you upstairs, Sherlock, and I'll talk to you soon, Molly." Greg Lestrade exited the room quickly, clearly afraid that he might inadvertently see something he'd wish he hadn't.

Once he had left and closed the door behind him, Sherlock turned to where Molly stood, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground and into a kiss. She hummed in response against his mouth and locked her arms around his neck. A few moments later, he let her slowly slide down to the floor again and they smiled at each other.

"Oh, Molly, you left your uh..." His eyes narrowed, darting back and forth as his head tilted in obvious thought process. "Clothing item? at my flat."

She looked quizzically at him.

He sighed. "You know...lace, silk, purple...thing. It was on the uh, floor."

"Ah yes! That would be my nighty, Sherlock. Thanks." She tried not to burst out in laughter at the fact that his ears were actually turning a little pink.

"Oh no, Molly." He cleared his throat. "Thank  _you."_

Molly smiled happily at him, and at the memory which was both sweet and hilarious. The night before, Molly had called and informed Sherlock that she'd be coming over to spend the night. It took a little bit of effort to make him see where she was going with this...

_"I'll be staying tonight."_

_"Ah. Good."_

_"I mean, we could sleep together tonight."_

_"Mmm, yes. I could do with a bit of rest."_

_She sighed, exasperated. "Sherlock, when I say sleep together, I'm not actually referring to sleep!"_

_Silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, then heard a slow intake of breath._

_"Ah! I see...good."_

_"Shall I...wear something? Something special I mean?"_

_"Um, however you're comfortable, Molly. I'm sure it'll make no great difference to me." Although he wasn't being unkind, he sounded as if he believed himself to be above such silliness. "You could just wear my pajamas."_

_"Your pajamas? I don't know, Sherlock, don't you think it would be a little more fun if I put on something...pretty?"_

_"Molly, you look pretty anyway. How can it matter?"_

_"Hmm, well perhaps I'll accept that challenge. And maybe by tomorrow you'll agree that it can matter." She hung up the phone before he could argue further._

_She chose a deep purple (because she was determined that he wouldn't be the only one to wear the color so well) nighty that came barely to mid thigh. The bottom couple inches as well as most of the bust, which plunged deep, were lace. The rest was a thin silky fabric that swept over her body, hugging every inch of curve and fitting her perfectly._

_She changed that night in the bathroom and then had crept into Sherlock's bedroom, seeing him just beginning to undo the buttons on his cuffs. When he heard the door creak and turned around, he absolutely froze. He drew a deep breath and held it for a very long time while his eyes narrowed a bit, seeming to deduce her. Eventually he blinked, eyes widening._

_"I- was not expecting...that."_

_"Mmm, I know," she replied proudly, running a hand through her loose hair._

_"Ok...you win," he said as he crossed the room, came face to face with her, then ran his hands slowly down the length of her arms. He looked her over again in a deliciously slow way, then met her eyes and dropped his voice a bit more. "It matters."_

Molly dearly hoped that she would never become so old and senile that she'd lose the memory of the look on his face when he first turned around to see her standing there. It was priceless, and precious, and beautiful. It was times like that she wished that she too possessed a finely tuned mind palace of her own. She could lock it up safely for all eternity! She was pretty sure he had.

"Yes well, I can get it back later."

"Perhaps after John and Mary's tonight?" He looked a bit hopeful.

"Oh, I dunno, Sherlock. I don't have time to go home before John and Mary's, especially since I'll be getting a gift. And if I go to Baker Street afterward that would be too long to leave poor Toby without food. And company too! He misses me when I'm gone for a while."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "But  _I need the company_ and _I miss you!"_ he whined through clenched teeth before taking her face in his hands and pressing another passionate kiss on her mouth.

Molly pulled away a little breathless. "Well, perhaps. Maybe if I can stop by my flat after I leave John's. I suppose then I could come back to Baker Street."

"Mmm, that's more like it." He smiled happily before grasping her shoulders and giving her forehead a kiss. He turned to head out the door but paused on his way.

"This situation is quickly becoming more complex and I believe there must be a way to make it a bit simpler and less inconvenient. Don't worry though, I'm currently working out a solution. See you tonight, Molly!" He smiled and was gone.

Molly shook her head and sighed as she went back to work. Good thing she loved him like crazy.

* * *

"Hello! Come on in! Oh, you didn't have to bring anything, Molly," Mary gushed as she opened the door for the two of them and took their coats and directed them into the flat.

"Course I did. I usually bring a bottle of wine when I go to a friend's for dinner, but I figured that's not entirely right for this occasion. So I thought nappies and a couple baby outfits would be a better choice."

Mary took the bag Molly held out and then pulled her over to where the bouncy seat was next to the couch. They crouched down to the baby's level and the shrill voices began.

"Sherlock, get in here," John said waving to Sherlock from the kitchen. "They'll be staring at Lizzie for the next twenty minutes. So how is it in the real world?"

"Oh it's just- John, what do you smell like?" Sherlock asked scrunching up his nose. "That can't be the baby. The baby smelled so lovely."

"Let me tell you, Sherlock, the baby may smell lovely, but anything the baby produces does  _not_ smell lovely on me!" He gestured to the multiple stains on the front of his shirt. "I meant to change, but I was holding off till the last minute. Figured if I changed I'd end up just getting that shirt messed up too."

"Seen a bit of trouble then?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.

"Oh yes...enough to last a lifetime." John smirked as well.

"So how are things then?" John asked again. "Managing without me?"

"Just. I'll be glad when you can come back though."

"Shouldn't be long I'd say. Another week or so and Mary will probably be kicking me out."

Sherlock took out his mobile to check a message.

I DO HOPE YOU'RE CONVINCING HIM TO TAKE A CASE WITH YOU ONCE IN A WHILE. I REALIZE WE JUST HAD A BABY, BUT MY GOD! HE NEEDS TO GET OUT A BIT! -MW

Sherlock peered over his shoulder and was met with a pointed gaze and raised eyebrow from Mary in the living room. He winked at her.

"Well you just let me know when you're ready, John. I'm certainly ready for help any time. Sooner rather than later would be good...do hurry back in fact," he said, trying to look as desperate as possible.

"Oh. Well then, I will. I'll give you a call in the next day or two. So how's things with Molly?"

"Good. Really good... _really good."_

"Oh- Oh! Really?! My God, I never thought I'd see the day. That's amazing, Sherlock, really. I mean it's wonderful!" John peered around Sherlock, clearly checking to see if anyone was listening. Then he lowered his voice.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" John asked with a sly smile.

Sherlock peered at him slowly out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh my God, you are!" John said, louder than he'd meant to, causing the two women in the sitting room to glance over.

Sherlock glared at John who couldn't stop smiling and shaking his head in happy disbelief. He decided to go sit with Molly, for fear this conversation would continue.

Molly held Lizzie, who was awake but seemed drowsy. "Want to hold her?" she offered as Sherlock sat down beside them.

"Alright," he accepted and Molly handed her over before sitting back and trying not to grin too ridiculously at the adorable sight.

"Listen here, Lizzie, I do not want to smell like your daddy. Do be kind, I haven't done anything to offend you. In fact, I deduce that you have grown a full, mm...1.5 pounds since I last saw you." He lifted her up and down in his arms slightly as he judged the weight. "And in this case I believe that's a compliment."

"Any and all growth deductions stop the moment she turns thirteen, Sherlock!" Mary instructed, pointing a warning finger at him.

The four of them ate some food, Mary and Molly talked happily, and Sherlock continued holding Elizabeth till she fell asleep as he related the most recent cases to John. Poor John and Mary looked completely run down by about nine. Sherlock handed the baby over so Mary could get her into the bassinet in the bedroom, and then he and Molly said their goodbyes. Sherlock made John promise again to call about getting back to work and he saw Mary smile at him from down the hallway.

Sherlock and Molly climbed into the cab he had gotten and she sighed, letting her head fall on the back of the seat in fatigue.

"Oh my, I'm tired! I have to warn you, Sherlock, by the time we get back to Baker Street I will be passing out immediately!"

"221 Baker Street please!" Sherlock called to the cabbie.

"What? No, Sherlock, we're going to my flat first," she said, head shooting up again.

"No, we need to go to Baker Street first," he replied evenly.

"Sherlock! I told you Toby needs to be-"

"Relax, Molly! Trust me. We need to go to Baker Street," he insisted.

She sighed, exasperated. "Fine! But honestly, Sherlock, this had better be important!" She crossed her arms in irritation.

Sherlock sat there smiling, quite pleased with himself as he looked out the window.

* * *

They got to Baker Street and Molly ascended the stairs rather ploddingly, clearly not happy to be there. Sherlock had practically leapt up the stairs though and opened the door quickly, rushing in and closing it behind him. Molly threw her arms up in aggravation before knocking at the door.

"Sherlock! I was coming up the stairs behind you if you didn't notice!" He opened the door, pulling her through the meager amount of space he'd created before closing the door again and stalking briskly around the flat peering around very strangely.

"Sherlock, what  _are_ you doing?! Wait, why does it smell like tuna fish in here?" she asked scrunching up her nose.

"Um, it was from earlier. Perhaps you should sit here." He pulled her over to sit in his chair. "And maybe it would help if you talk a bit louder," he said, gesturing grandly with his hands.

"I'm about to start talking a lot louder, Sherlock, if you don't tell me what's going on!"

But he had disappeared down the hallway already, still seeming like he was looking for something. She leaned forward, resting her head in her palms as she groaned. A minute later, Sherlock finally came out again.

"Found what I was looking for," he announced

"Toby?!" she cried, jumping up to get the cat from his arms. "Sherlock, what in the world is he doing here? How did he get here?"

"Well it's easy enough to break into your flat," he explained, looking pleased with himself.

"Did you break into my flat and steal my cat all so we wouldn't have to stop there to feed him tonight? That's a bit extreme!" She had begun smiling a little as Toby purred against her shoulder.

"It was the logical option. Now you won't have to worry about that anymore."

"Oh yes, very lovely! Now I have the prospect of getting him back to my flat tomorrow in a cab! That doesn't exactly save me worry."

"Why would you need to do that? He can just stay here."

"What? Are you stealing my cat now? He is my cat, Sherlock. Meaning he lives with me."

"That's right, Molly. Where you go, he goes."

"Yes, so it only makes sense that-" She halted quickly as the pieces began fitting together in her mind. She stared up at him agape as his mouth crept up in a little smile. Her grip loosened on Toby and he leaped down to run under the nearest piece of furniture.

"Sherlock...are you- I mean, what are you saying?" she whispered.

"What do you think I'm saying, Molly?" he asked softly, finally removing his coat and tossing it over the chair. She didn't respond, so he slid his hands down her arms till at last he hooked his hands into hers. Then he smiled at her.

"I want you here with me. So I was hoping this would make the decision a bit easier. Stay here. Stay here with me. I'd very much like it if you would live here," he said, searching her eyes with his own.

"You- you would? I mean, are you sure? That's a big thing, Sherlock," she said, shaking her head. Partly out of disbelief, and partly just in question. "And it's only been a few weeks."

"Well, to be fair, we have known each other for many years. And although it took me quite a while to catch up to you, I see no point in wasting time now that we're both on the same page. You want to be with me, and I want to be with you. But more specifically, I want to be with you here."

Molly tried not to grin and give herself away too quickly. "You seem to think you should just get whatever it is you want. Is that really fair? What if you wake up one day and want me out?"

"Nope. Won't happen."

"Oh, surely you'll get mad at me sometimes!" she pressed.

"Of course I will! Doesn't mean I'd want you to leave." He smoothed some hair from her face.

"Wow," Molly said, blushing. "One night. Just one night together, and you ask me to move in the very next day eh? That could go to a girl's head."

"Yes, I figured you would naturally make that connection. And though the benefits of you living here with me have just been drastically amplified as of last night, I confess it was already my plan even before that. It's just not enough if you're not living here. It would never be enough."

Molly licked her lips and thought for a moment while slipping her arms around his waist.

"You aren't just trying to replace John are you? Do you just miss having a flat mate?"

Sherlock sighed and took her hand. He sat in his chair, pulling her down to sit across his lap, then looked at her intently as he spoke softly.

"Molly, you replace nothing and nobody. Because I have never had, or wanted, anything or anybody like you before. Ever. You are not to be compared with anybody else. If you have to believe that you replace something, it could only be emptiness. The space which you now occupy was only empty before you came to fill it."

Molly felt a lump rising in her throat and she grasped his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his lips and trying to stop her own from shaking.

"You always say such wonderful things," she mumbled with lips still just barely touching his.

"That's an improvement. I seem to remember that I always say such horrible things."

She let out a shaky laughed and then enveloped his mouth again with her own. After releasing his lips, she began pressing quick kisses all over his face before finally looking at him again. Molly exhaled slowly while wiping a tear that was threatening to fall from her eye.

"Ok, yes, I'll live here with you. Oh God, I love you so much!" She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder as she felt his arms respond by locking tightly around her as well.

"I- I love you too, Molly," he said very quietly.

Her head shot up and she stared at him wide eyed. "Sherlock...I've loved you for so long and I just had to say it. I've never really told you before. Not like that. But it's ok if you don't want to say it yet. You didn't have to."

He smiled and looked at her with that beautiful ocean storming in his eyes. "No, Molly, I don't say things that I don't want to say. Thank you for saying it first. I was starting to wonder how I would get up the courage, because I really do. I do love you."

She smiled as she leaned into him again. They stayed like that for a minute before Molly sat up again.

"So...why does it smell like tuna fish?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Ah yes. That was an attempt to befriend Toby when I had first gotten him here this afternoon. He wasn't too fond of me after his being accosted from his home, made to travel in a cab, and put in an unfamiliar environment. Needless to say, there was a fair amount of hissing and scratching involved."

Molly couldn't help giggling at the images this conjured in her mind. "And did the tuna help?"

"Helped him have a snack is about all. He ran away the second he was done eating. I believe he's still not pleased with me."

"Mmm, probably not. But he'll come round." She kissed Sherlock's forehead and then got up from his lap, making her way into the kitchen and locating the mostly empty plate of tuna on the floor to rinse it off in an attempt to rid the flat of the continuing smell. "So what'll I tell my family?"

"Well I'd say you don't have to tell them that we've broken up."

"Obviously!"

"Perhaps you can share the details with them one day. Just wait till they are so impossibly happy with me, that even the deception of how we became a couple cannot change their opinion. Just to be safe."

"I think they're in danger of falling for you just as much as I did. They haven't got a chance!"

Sherlock came up behind her as she had shut off the tap and was drying her hands. He turned her around gently, pinning her between himself and the counter.

" _You_  haven't got a chance," he murmured, and the baritone words just seeped right under her skin as he leaned down to connect his lips to the side of her neck.

"That's...probably true," she breathed out.

"Oh, and by the way," he said between kisses. "I deleted Irene's text feed from my mobile."

"Did you?" she managed.

"Mmm...you were right. They contained no evidence. I had kept them for sentimental reasons...but they're gone now." He moved to the other side of her neck.

"Mhmm that's...good. I'll send you lots of texts to fill the uh- the space. Lots and lots of...mm..." Her words melted away.

"I'd be terribly angry if you didn't." Sherlock muttered, barely audible with his lips plastered to her skin.

Unseen to Molly and Sherlock, Toby had emerged from under the couch and began inspecting the rest of the living area. He came upon a lovely chair, to the right of the fireplace. He hopped up and began purring and kneading the dense fabric, then circled around a few times before curling up comfortably. It was even still a bit warm. Perhaps this place wasn't so bad after all. They'd gone to the trouble of giving him his very own chair! He was deeply touched.

The now content Toby was only briefly disturbed a minute later when he heard the squeal of laughter and saw this new person scooping his Molly up and carrying her off down the hallway. He barely glanced up, his ears pinned back in question momentarily, then he tucked his head down again as the door at the end of the hall shut quickly. He didn't much particularly.

So long as nobody tried to take his new chair.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Hope you guys liked it! ;) There's a follow up to this that I'm in the midst of as well. Perhaps I'll post what I have of that on here if anyone is interested.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Zephyr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666484) by [Writingwife83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83)




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